


Like A Sad, Sad Story

by TaylorJ



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaylorJ/pseuds/TaylorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So never go home?" Geno asks and there's a sad lilt to his voice that catches in Sid's heart. </p><p>He sighs, "I don't actually have a home to go back to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Sad, Sad Story

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, IT'S DONE!
> 
> I've been writing this story since February/March-ish and I can't believe it's finished. I intended for it to be maybe 10k but the plot grew and the story demanded my respect in writing it and it became this monster, the longest work I've ever contributed to any fandom. 
> 
> Thank you so much to anon8771; you were there when I bugged you to read through this while I was still writing it and you gave it another final look before posting. I really appreciate the questions you sent my way after reading it that made this story get bigger and bigger. Thank you, also, for Pretty Woman, which is what initially gave me this idea.
> 
> This story deals with some sensitive issues; it's based in a fictional 2006-2007 season where Sidney is not a hockey player. This story glorifies homelessness. This story plays down the struggle of what living on the street is like so please do not take what's written for fact. There are more specific warnings in the end notes and I suggest you read them if you know there are certain things that are triggers for you. The sensitive issues here can hit close to home. 
> 
> I've chosen not to warn for certain things because it's only talked about, not written in detail. There is also some emotional trauma that doesn't get discussed in detail either.
> 
> Story title taken from Keb Mo's "I'll Be Your Water".

He's cold everywhere his body touches the ground. The concrete under his legs is unforgiving and different points of contact have long since gone pins-and-needles. He's shivering beyond that, too, but he lacks a blanket or a jacket to wrap around himself.

 

His sign on the ground in front of him is continuously getting trampled and he reaches forward to smoothen out the edges for what must be the hundredth time today. He sighs as he does so, the movement waking portions of his backside, before he settles back against the wall, legs still crossed. He looks up then and watches as a group of loud-mouthed guys walk passed, not paying him or his sign any attention. He slumps and turns to watch them go, only to hear a clinking sound in his cup. He looks back and watches the money settle before he raises his head and says a quiet, "Thanks."

 

The guy nods back at him, hands stuffed in his suit pockets, before he turns heel to catch up to the rest of his group. He keeps glancing back over his shoulder but Sidney doesn't know why.

 

\---

 

Fall is slowly becoming winter and the New York City streets are getting colder. Sid's short sleeve shirt has been covered up by a generous donation of a down jacket and (what was originally) a soft flannel blanket. The rain and consequential mud has caked the fabric, and Sid's just grateful it still helps retain his warmth. His cardboard sign has been through the ringer, just like him, but it still reads, and his cup still sits in front of him. He still sits in midtown Manhattan.

 

Its been particularly cold the last few days, and Sid gathers from passing conversation that it's to remain that way for a few more, so he huddles his jacket up to his ears and tucks his face into the blanket covering his bent legs. He keeps hoping his exhales beneath the blanket will help warm the rest of his body but it’s yet to happen. He hasn't stayed at a shelter so far and he was really hoping he wouldn't have to, but it’s beginning to look more and more like his only option.

 

There's a mild rowdiness rounding the corner towards him but Sid stays tucked into his jacket, cracking one eye open to follow the movement. Once the group clears his immediate area, he closes his eye again and fists the neck of the jacket higher.

 

He stays that way until he feels something crowd into the space next to him and he lifts his head and turns to see the same man who dropped a coin in his cup two months prior. He’s sitting next to him on the ground and Sid’s breath catches in his throat.

 

Sid's remembered this man's soft eyes and doughy lips; he's spent mornings ringing out the cramps in his neck while thinking back on sweet dreams of touching that creamy white skin. He doesn't quite believe he's seeing the man sitting next to him now, suit and all, holding two containers of white styrofoam. Sid knows he's wide-eyed as he reaches a hand out of his nest for one and the guy smiles softly at him.

 

"Eat," he says, reaching into his chest pocket to produce two plastic forks, "food get cold."

 

Sid can't recognize the accent but it's heavy as he fumbles over the words. Sid takes one of the forks and opens his container, digging in just as the other man does. It's surprisingly good — he forgets how tasty the food carts can be when he misses multiple meals — but best of all is that it's filling, and Sid starts to feel the ache in his stomach ease after just a few bites.

 

"Thank you," he mumbles out through a mouthful and out of the corner of his eye he watches the other man's cheeks flush.

 

"Geno. I'm Geno," Geno directs towards his plate, dragging his fork through the rice tucked under the chicken. He's eating much more civilized than Sid, and he feels his cheeks redden as he grabs another bite.

 

Sid chews and gulps it down, keeping his face angled away as he says, "Thank you, Geno."

 

"Much welcome," Geno replies softly, tucking another bite into his mouth as well.

 

They both continue to eat in silence, city-life thick in the air around them. Sid's used to the siren noise and car horns by now but Geno jumps slightly each time there's a loud sound. It’s peaceful though, and Sid enjoys himself eating half of the container.

 

Sid's noticed that people get stingier the colder it gets outside and it's been days since his stomach’s felt even a glimmer of fullness; he's not sure when he can bank on having this feeling again, so he stops himself, dropping his fork into the finished half and closes the lid. He tucks the container under his bent legs and pulls the jacket tightly around himself again.

 

Geno makes a whining sort of noise beside him and Sid turns to look. Geno's finished his own container of food but he's reaching for Sid's and Sid feels mildly unsure. He didn't think Geno would want whatever he didn't finish but he hurriedly pulls it from beneath him and extends it.

 

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, "I didn't know you'd want what's left. Thank you again for it; I'm sorry if I assumed—"

 

Geno cuts him off by pushing the styrofoam back towards Sid, shaking his head. "No," he says firmly. "Why you not finish? Not hungry?"

 

Sid wobbles his head side to side and pulls the container into his chest. He grabs both ends in his hands and stares down at the blank-white lid, "No, I'm still hungry. I just don't know when I'll have real food again."

 

Geno makes another noise before he’s shuffling next to Sid. He glances over just as Geno’s pulling his wallet from his pocket. He's got five twenty-dollar bills in his hand and is stuffing the wallet away before Sid could even see how much was in it. He's holding the money out towards Sid, too, and Sid swings his head harder.

 

"No," he says firmly, shoving Geno’s hand back into his chest. "No, I couldn't take that, no," he repeats. Geno certainly looks like he can afford it, though, with how he's been dressed the two times Sid's seen him, but it's a matter of principle. Sid knows he's in need of money but Geno shouldn't be giving him that much of it, no matter how much he has.

 

"Please, please, take.” Geno's eyes have gone as doughy as his lips and something in his voice makes Sid stop pushing back. “Want you have food when need. Please. Want help you," he says, and Sid finds that he can't look away from his eyes. He knows he'll remember them even more so now, and he'll have a voice to go along with the visions of his face, and he gently grasps the money between his fingers.

 

He pulls it from Geno’s grip and tucks his hand back under the blanket, stuffing the money into his pocket. "Thank you," he says again. 

 

There's a noise from the corner the group of guys had slipped around earlier and Geno turns his head towards it when his name is called. "I go now," he says and Sid thinks he sounds sad but he can't tell for sure. Geno pushes himself to his feet and Sid looks up at his full height towering over him. "Bye," he says as he turns away.

 

Sid watches him go but he doesn't look back. Sidney doesn't know why.

 

—

 

The next time Sid sees Geno, the other man is walking into Madison Square Garden. Sid knows his usual spot is nearby the arena, he knows the heavy foot traffic he can get a few nights a week is because of the events that go on there, but he hadn't counted on Geno being one of those event people. He certainly didn't seem that way dressed in a suit instead of team paraphernalia, but really, how would Sid know?

 

His heart picks up a little in his chest and he smiles to himself as he walks back to his spot. He's anxious for the evening now and hopeful that he'll get to see the man again that night. He's not banking on it, of course. Its not like it's a guarantee. He's only seen Geno twice and the Garden certainly has events more often than that — his presence has to be related to a specific team or something. If he does get to talk to Geno again though, a month since they shared their meal, he wants a chance to share his name, too.

 

The winter's been tough on him as it's rolled into the area. He's sparsely used the money Geno gave him but it's tough to hold onto anything of value out on the streets. He's been buying himself roughly one decent meal a day but there's no way he's maintained the body he had before the streets. He's pretty thinned out, hollow cheeks, scraggly beard and pale skin, its something he can't escape whenever he looks in deli windows. It's his life now though, he knows, and there's no escaping that.

 

He's bundled in his usual spot, across from an apartment complex on 8th avenue, and the usual post-game foot traffic has already screamed passed. He was able to gather a few dollars from that, thankfully, and someone even passed him a protein bar, but if he's actually going to stay on the streets like he wants (instead of a shelter), he'll need to do better.

 

It's been quiet for a decent while when he hears the group Geno always seems to be accompanying. They're a loud bunch; talking and gesturing at one another in their suits and heavy coats, dress shoes clicking away on the pavement. Sidney watches the group as it passes, staring patiently at the end of the line for Geno to appear again. He's disappointed though, when the man does not appear. No one in the group acknowledges him and Sid lets his head fall forward in defeat. He knew not to bank on seeing the other man but he can't help sulking over not getting to.

 

He's a little afraid he won't get to see him again, and Sidney's doesn't know why.

 

\---

 

When Sidney thinks about it though, he knows that's not really true. He knows perfectly why he's afraid of not seeing the man again. Geno's been kind and charitable, more so than anyone he's met since this street became his home. More than the money he gave and the food he purchased, Sid was grateful for the fact that someone was nice to him.

 

It's only a few short days later, sun high in the cloudy sky, that Sid gets his wish. He's been pushing around the day-old chicken and rice dish at his feet for the last half an hour. The weather's been cold enough out that he doesn't have to worry about the meat going bad but he hasn't been on the streets long enough to really be over that fear. He'll bet anything that it was psychological, but last time he'd eaten day-old meat, he felt nauseous until he fell asleep.

 

He doesn't notice Geno at first, but he lifts his head when a pair of sneakers stops in front of him and his whole face lights in a smile as he recognizes the man that's wearing them. Sid drops his fork into the container and reaches a hand up to grasp Geno's outstretched one. He lets Geno pull him to his feet, his blanket falling off his lap.

 

"Hi," Sid says, voice breathy. He can feel the dopey smile on his face and he tries to rein it in.

 

Still holding Sid's hand, Geno smiles softly in reply. "Would you like get lunch?"

 

He looks down at his belongings and back up at Geno. "Are you sure?" He asks and once Geno nods he bends to collect his sign and blanket. He one-hands the food container he had and follows Geno as they walk to the diner at the corner of the block. He hands the styrofoam off to Bill, the only other homeless guy that sits near Sid, as he passes him.

 

He stays behind Geno as they enter the diner, stiff and awkward, just as he's always been in social situations. They're shown to a booth but its not much better once they sit, silence falling over them as they read over their menus.

 

"We order," Geno starts and Sid looks up, "and then would like talk."

 

Sid nods, thankful enough to be off the concrete for a little while to not even question what that means. He's torn between the blueberry waffles and a loaded lunch sandwich when the waitress comes by. He gets himself water and the sandwich after he hears what Geno orders and he settles back into the seat once she's gone.

 

The busboy brings their drinks over quickly, and Sid grabs at one of the straws on the table. He peels it and fiddles with the paper, hunching over in his seat.

 

"So," Geno says, ripping open his own straw and dropping it in his glass.

 

Sid smiles a little to himself and clears his throat as he lifts his eyes to meet Geno's. "I'm Sid, by the way." He says, and he meets Geno's hand in the middle of the table to shake it.

 

"Nice to meet," Geno smiles and Sid feels his chest warm over.

 

"Thank you for this, too," he starts, gesturing a hand over the table.

 

"Is no problem." He shakes his head. "You still have left any I give?"

 

Sid drops the straw wrapper and leans back in the seat. "Not much of it, but a few dollars, yeah."

 

"Keep eating, yes?"

 

"Yeah," he smiles. "I've had something every day since you—yeah."

 

"Good," Geno's smile is beaming across his face and Sidney's stomach flutters just a little.

 

"If you don't mind—" he starts, reaching one hand out over his end of the table, "um, what do you do?"

 

Geno's smile wobbles a little but he answers, "Am athlete, yes?", as if Sid should’ve known.

 

"Oh?" Sid brightens a little, because athletes he knows. They're the kinds of guys he grew up with back in Canada, they're the type of person he, himself, used to be. He knows how to get along with them and that eases his nerves a little. "Basketball?" He questions.

 

Geno laughs, a strong sound that emanates from his belly and sets Sid's heart racing. "No, no. Am hockey player," he says.

 

Sid knows his smile falls fast, an uncomfortable feeling suddenly filling his chest. He tries to recover and he knows it’s a hardship when Geno squints his eyes at him. "That's really cool." His fingers grab for the wrapper again and he twists it. "I love hockey."

 

The conversation is saved, Sid feels, by the arrival of their dishes. His eyes widen at the size of the plate the waitress puts in front of him; the sandwich he ordered is easily 30 centimeters long and stuffed to the brim with luncheon meats. He looks up when he hears Geno laughing to find that the man is laughing at him and he can't help but giggle in response. It's been a long time since he's shared a meal with anyone, save the one time before with Geno, and the laughter helps soothe his uneasiness.

 

"Eat," Geno gestures as he wraps his hand around his own sandwich and lifts it to his mouth.

 

A few bites in, Sidney sets his food back on the plate and reaches for a napkin. He's not sure what possesses him but after he's wiped his face clean, he says, "I used to watch hockey all the time when I was growing up. My dad loved it, too."

 

"Yeah?" Geno asks between bites. "Is big deal in Russia, where I'm from. Hockey good career but not everyone make."

 

"Mhmm. My dad, uh, actually," he grimaces a little, unsure of why he's bringing it up, and picks up the sandwich again. "He was drafted by the NHL, but he never really got a start."

 

"Is tough." Geno says with a sad lilt to his voice. "You play?" He asks.

 

For a second, Sid thinks he sees glimmer of recognition in Geno's eyes. The look is gone before he can decipher it though and Sidney clears his throat after he swallows. "For a few years."

 

"Good sport, build—character? Is best." He says, his smile cheeky once again.

 

Sid finds himself smiling in return, leaning in as he eats to hear Geno tell a story of when he played peewees back in Russia. He finds he laughs more than he thought he would, having to think and talk about hockey again, but he definitely likes this guy and Sid thinks, it's no wonder. Hockey was always the center of his life.

 

When they finish eating, Sid accompanies Geno to the cashier to pay, thanking him over and over. Geno just blushes though, handing his credit card to the woman before signing the bill, and forces Sid into a convenience store across the street. He grabs two water bottles and makes Sid pick out a few things that won't go bad right away before they walk back to Sid's spot.

 

He's reluctant to let Geno leave again but Sid's never been greedy; he's not going to overstay his welcome even when it's Geno technically at his 'home'. He twists one of the water bottles in his hands after he's placed his things back in his spot, still standing in front of Geno.

 

"Thank you," he says again, his eyes downcast. "You really don't know—"

 

Geno places a hand on his shoulder and Sid looks up. His smile is sympathetic without pity and Sid nods, once. "Just want help." He says, and Sid now knows that, that accent is Russian and that Geno's lack of prepositions stems from him still learning English after only just getting to the US. It’s that new knowledge that keeps his heart gently beating in an uneven rhythm.

 

"I know," he smiles back. "And thank you."

 

"Team play Jersey next week, if have time I'm want come see you again, okay?"

 

Sid's smile softens as he says, "Okay," and reaches one hand up to grab the forearm to the hand that's still on his shoulder.

 

"You have 'enough to keep eat 'til then?"

 

"Until I see you again?" Geno just nods and Sid nods back, squeezing Geno's arm beneath his hand. "Yeah."

 

"Good." He says and pats Sid's shoulder before he drops his hand back to his side. He smiles at Sid once more before turning to walk in the direction he came earlier that afternoon.

 

Sidney's left standing there with a water bottle and small plastic bag of chips and nutrition bars. He's smiling, too, and he's grateful to know why.

 

\---

 

Sidney does see Geno again the following week. It's late at night and Geno's in another suit, fresh with stories from that evening's game. Sid sits with him in that same diner and soaks it all in.

 

At one point, he thinks he'd have had a role in these stories. He wonders what would've happened if he'd stayed to deal with everything at home; would he have made it to the big show? Would he have been a failure like his father?

 

Those thoughts, thankfully, don't stop Sid from joining in Geno's laughter as he shares a prank two of his teammates pulled. It does put a filter over his evening though and he's relieved when Geno notices.

 

"Is okay." He says, "Been talk lots about team. Maybe tell about you?" He's holding his burger loosely between his fingers and when he smiles, there's ketchup smeared across his front two teeth.

 

Sid clears his throat and pops a fry in his mouth before responding. "There's not really much to tell, Geno, you know that."

 

"Tell where you from, kid stories. Don't need be now."

 

Sid sighs a little, showing like he's putout, but the corners of his mouth are twitching. "I'm nineteen, now. I ran away from home two years ago after some really bad shit went down. I don't exactly have great stories to tell." Geno makes a sound in the back of his throat and he looks like he's fighting himself with reaching out towards Sid. Sidney just shrugs, the half-depreciating smile still on his face. "Just life, you know?" He shakes his head, holding his own sandwich with limp fingers. "What year were you drafted?"

 

Geno swallows the bite in his mouth and takes another before he answers, "Year before last." His says, his voice sounding sad on the words. "Was problem leave Super League so take long time get here. I'm twenty," he shares and Sid feels his heart clench a little more at that.

 

"What was the issue?"

 

"Magnitogorsk, where I'm from, not want me leave. Hold passport—ransom? Yes?" He nods curtly when Sid says yes, "So I'm escape, like, like big spy movie."

 

Sid cracks a real smile and tries to hide it behind his hand. He can't quite imagine that dire of a scenario happening but he doesn't think Geno's prone to lying. He lets it go with a breath of laughter, "Sounds like you're someone important."

 

Geno winks at him and finishes off his burger. He wipes his hands on a napkin before responding, "You see Pittsburgh? I'm big deal." He smiles deviously, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth and Sid's honking laugh lets loose that sad feeling in his chest.

 

When he calms down, he's still smiling brightly, feeling happier than he has in years. "I'll have to take your word for it."

 

\---

 

The winter is harsh, blistering cold and snow, compounded only by the fact that Sidney doesn't get to see Geno for months. He'd left him with much more money than necessary, Sid protesting profusely, but it was taking it or Geno taking him and he's vowed to make it on his own.

 

He stays out of the shelters, taking refuge in subway stairwells before being chased away by police. They're pretty lenient, thankfully, and usually don't bother him when he has a legitimate reason to be seeking cover. He doesn't enjoy his life on the streets but it's what he's been reduced to; and if he's ever had a fault against him it's that he's too proud to accept handouts.

 

His sign feels different. Sitting on the sidewalk and asking for it is him doing the work to receive it. He knows his logic is fishy. Geno's more stubborn than Sid is so he's taken what handouts he's given. It helps Sidney's conscience that Geno genuinely seems to care about what happens to him, too.

 

He's walking passed a bar on his way to get food when he notices one of the televisions playing a hockey game. Given the amount of money he has still, if he's stingy with what he orders, he knows he can afford this place. When the TV screen pans across a player's face and Sid sees that — oh my god — it's Geno, his mind's made up. 

 

The hostess thankfully doesn't give him a hard time. It's the middle of the week and they're not too busy, and when he requests a seat near the TV he wants, she doesn't question him.

He stuffs the sign and his blanket into the corner of the booth he's in, barely taking his eyes off the screen. He catches a look at Geno again — number 71 with an A on his left shoulder — and smiles. Sid waits until intermission between the first and second periods to even look at the menu. He keeps it simple and cheap, Geno onscreen filling his hunger more than any food could.

 

He stays at the place for the rest of the game, long after he's finished eating and only keeps ordering water. The bartender's been giving him a side-eye look for the last half-hour but Sid doesn't let himself care. He's fixated on the game, with Geno skating circles around the opposition’s defense. Sid's in awe, honestly, and if he wasn't already falling for the guy he knows this would make him. Geno's better than anyone he's ever seen, excluding Gretzky and Lemieux.

 

Watching, though, he's forced to notice all the stopgaps between Geno's level of play and his teammates. He can see the seams Geno sends his passes through before his wingers do and he doesn't feel he can chalk that up to the angle at which he's watching. Sid can read it in his body language before the play even takes place.

 

He groans to himself and drops his forehead to his forearms, resting on the table. He lets another sound out under his breath and blinks to clear his vision.

 

This is why he's avoided hockey. 

 

With five minutes left in the game, Sid drops some cash into the bill envelope on the table. He waits for the waitress to bring him his change and then leaves a tip with what he can spare. Sidney walks out with just over a minute remaining in the game, Geno on the ice with an empty net at his back, searching for the tying goal.

 

\---

 

It's another two weeks, and already early March, by the time Sid sees him again. He's avoided watching another game by sticking to food carts and cheap deli's but he's certainly dreamt about it. He's gone over most of the plays he watched Geno run in that game, each that ended with a winger surprised to receive the puck before he was stripped, but all with a different outcome. Because Sid was on the ice with him.

 

Geno's not alone when he calls his name. Sid lifts his head to watch him round the block, tucking the small notebook and pen he's been doodling with under the blanket. He smiles — can't really help himself — and stands before the small group reaches him. "Hey, Geno," he says, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets.

 

Geno's answering smile is bright and he pulls Sid into a hug before Sid can react. He laughs a little through his surprise and Geno pulls back, leaving his hands resting on Sid's shoulders. "Good to see." He says, tongue poking out the side of his smile. Sid just nods, knowing his smile is brighter than before.

 

"G," one of the guys with him starts and Geno finally pulls away.

 

"This Sid," he announces, turning towards his friends. "Sid, this Gonch, Army, Flower and Tanger. Team."

 

Sid nods again, "Nice to meet you all."

 

"Nice to meet you, too," Gonch says, reaching out a hand for Sidney to shake. He has a similar accent to Geno's and that comforts an ache in Sid's chest that he didn't know he had.

 

"You're Russian, too?" He asks, nodding his head towards Geno and stuffing his hand back in his pocket.

 

Geno reaches over and slings an arm around Gonch's neck, pulling the older man into his side. "Russia best," Geno says, tongue-in-cheek, and the other three start to laugh.

 

"It's nice to meet you, Sid," the one Geno pointed out as Flower says, linking his arm around Sid's elbow. He starts walking Sid towards the diner and Sid makes a small sound in the back of his throat, looking over his shoulder for his belongings. He relaxes when he sees Geno bent over to grab them and let's Flower continuing dragging him along.

 

"You, too," he remembers to say as Tanger holds the door open for them.

 

They get a large circular booth in the back corner of the place with a view out to 8th Avenue. Flower keeps scooting Sid further and further in until he's practically in the center and Geno slides in on Sid's other side. The hostess is rolling her eyes at them as they settle, dropping their menus into a big pile on the table.

 

Sid's reaching out for one when Geno grabs his arm and yanks his hand towards himself. He lifts Sid's fingers, pressing hot points on his hand that makes his fingers shift, and inspect the bruising on his knuckles. "Sid, what happen?" He asks.

 

Sid swallows and pulls his hand out of Geno's grasp. "It's nothing, Geno," he says. The smile on his face is cramped and he can feel the sweat breaking out across his top lip, Geno watching him. He keeps his eyes trained on the table as the others all glance at each other.  It's bad enough, Sid figures, that these guys know Geno's friends with a homeless person, he doesn't need to add that a drunk guy thought he was a prostitute.

 

Tanger clears his throat, looking down at his own menu. "So how'd you meet the Russian bear over there?"

 

"Russian bear?" Sid echoes. "Oh, um," he starts, "he, uh—"

 

"Already tell you story, Tanger," Geno grumbles. "Ask new question." He waves his hand and the table cracks up again.

 

"Bully," Army mumbles. "Where are you from?" He asks Sid instead.

 

He clears his throat, "Oh, uh, Nova Scotia."

 

"So another Canadian, eh?" Gonch laughs.

 

Geno blushes a soft pink color that makes Sid's cheeks turn red; Geno grumbles something in Russian back at Gonch and on Sid's other side, Flower starts talking to Tanger in fast French.

 

Army rolls his eyes and let's out a laugh, "It's alright, guys, Sid and I'll just keep with English."

 

Sid laughs at that, the others ignoring Army, but he turns to Flower and responds, albeit slowly, in French to the question he asked Tanger. The whole table falls silent and everyone turns to look at him with wide eyes. Sid flushes under the scrutiny. "What? Just because I live on the street doesn't mean I'm uneducated."

 

Geno just beams at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

 

Sid learns their real names over the course of lunch and starts referring to them as such, feeling wrong calling them their nicknames without being on the team. He somehow earns himself a nickname of his own, too, Colby dubbing him Creature — he's not exactly sure it's a good thing. They talk a little hockey around and at him but Sid's happy they seem to not be mixing much business with pleasure.

 

It's a fairly relaxed meal and Geno even lets Sid cover the cost of what he ate, smiling at him as he smoothes out the crumpled the bills. He finds it nice, relaxing even; a true testament that maybe he could've been a part of this for real.

 

Before they get the change back from the hostess, standing in a crowd in front of the register, Sid starts to feel uneasy with that notion. When they walk out, the others all holler their goodbyes and turn to leave, Geno escorting Sid back to his spot. He sighs, stuffing his hands down into his pockets as Geno drops his stuff almost perfectly in place. Before he's stood back up, Sid finds himself asking, "Why are you doing this, Geno?"

 

He straightens and turns to face Sid. Sidney's not looking up so their eyes don't meet, but he can feel Geno searching his face. "What you mean?"

 

"You have real friends, Geno, you don't need to be helping some homeless, hopeless kid."

 

"Not hopeless, Sid," he says fiercely, ducking down to look up into Sid's face. "Help you cause I'm want. Not want see you on street."

 

"There's nothing you can do to change this; this is the hand I was dealt." Sid says, defeated, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears.

 

"Not true. I'm can help you, Sid. You know I'm can, is why you scare." He straightens when Sid looks up into his eyes.

 

He shakes his head, sniffing back the tears he can feel forming. "You really can't. You know nothing about me, Geno. How can you—" He hates the wobbling he hears in his own voice, the fear, his heartbreak. He clenches his jaw shut and tilts his head away.

 

"I'm know enough," Geno says, stepping forward and lifting a hand to Sid's cheek. He presses gently until Sidney's looking at him again. In the back of his throat, Sid makes a soft, strangled noise and he knows Geno hears it. Geno leans down and softly brushes their lips together.

 

Sid jerks, stepping back with one foot to catch his weight. He holds his hands up in front of himself and bites down on the inside of his cheek, his eyes watering. "I think you should go." He says, voice strange to his own ears.

 

"No, I'm—"

 

"Go, Geno." He shouts, flipping his head in the direction the others went.

 

Geno makes a hurt noise and moves to step in again. Sid shuffles his feet away, breathing hard, and it all makes Geno's face fall. He nods sadly, reaching into his back pocket and dropping a few bills on top of Sid's stuff before he turns and leaves.

 

\---

 

Sidney's miserable, after that. It's the first night he's cried since he found himself on the streets with nowhere to go and no one to talk to. He's huddled in a ball with his jacket pulled up to cover his face, still hearing the occasional clinking of his cup. The sadness radiating through his chest feels never-ending.

 

He can't believe he did that... That he stepped away from Geno and forced him to leave. He feels justified in everything he said but Geno offered him, then and there, the answer to Sid's question.

 

Sid's right though, he knows; why Geno keeps coming back around just ultimately doesn't make sense. He has a life and real friends, he doesn't need to be scouring the streets for someone to talk to and he doesn't need to be going out of his way with helping Sidney.

 

If he sees him again, Sid thinks, he'll fix this. Geno deserves better than Sid could ever give him and he'll make sure he knows that. This is all a big misunderstanding, Geno stuck thinking he could be someone's knight and shining armor. Sidney's not selfish enough to let Geno keep thinking he's Sid's.

 

\---

 

"I'm see plays in your notebook."

 

Sidney startles at the voice, his whole body jumping. His pen drops out of his hand and he scrambles to look up at the same time as he's hurrying to close his book.

 

It's Geno — holy fuck. It's Geno. It's been a couple of weeks, Sidney doesn't know why he's here, why he's—

 

"When we go to diner I'm see your book." He has one hand in his pocket and one shoulder shrugged up to his ear. His other hand is loosely gesturing at his side. "I'm know who you are, Sid."

 

"What?" He says. He knows he looks completely baffled and damn Geno for making him be. "You know—what?"

 

Geno clears his throat and at least has the courtesy to look shameful. "First time I'm see you, think 'boy look like Crosby'," Sid's breath catches. "Second time, I'm know is you. Not want scare so I'm not say, I'm let you think I'm just help stranger. But you not stranger, Sid."

 

Sid's cheeks flush with color and his hands are shaking. He never knew Geno so he doesn't know how Geno could've known him. Sure, he'd had some media coverage when he was fourteen and the last hockey he played was an international tournament but he was baby-faced and going somewhere... No one else has caught on or said anything if they did. Sid's been on his own for so long now, surely—

 

"When I'm bring guys, think recognize you, too, but no one, Sid." He drops into the space in front of Sidney on the ground. "I'm follow your games, watch TV stories, think, 'one day I'm play with him', but you disappear, Sid. Find you on street—"

 

Sidney's voice cracks around a sound that squeezes out of his throat. He's crying, tears running down his cheeks and Geno leans forward and grabs one of his hands between both of his. He can feel the silent sobs shaking him as he wraps his free hand around his chest.

 

"—Don't know why you on street, Sid, don't care. I'm— _Sid_." Sidney looks up into Geno's eyes and through his tears he can see the sheen of them in Geno's. Geno's gripping his hand tight between his own, tugging, and Sid falls into him willingly. He stuffs his face into Geno's neck and just lets go, tears soaking through the material he's curled against.

 

They must be sitting for hours, Sid thinks, with Geno softly running his hand through Sid's hair; he's been dry-eyed for a long portion of it, just resting with his head still tucked into Geno's shoulder, his hand circling up to hold Geno's neck. Their breathing has been even-paced for a long while and Sid feels practically comatose here; safe.

 

When he does finally pull back, he rubs his neck, trying to ease the kink he created. He hasn't looked over at Geno yet but he's shifting too, moving back against the wall, knees bent and bracing his feet on the floor. His forearms are resting across his knees and he's slouching. Sid thinks Geno's just as tired as he is. He rotates back against the wall as well, glancing at Geno out of the corner of his eye.

 

Sid heaves a deep sigh and let's his head fall forward. "I didn't want you to know me." He mumbles, chin almost touching his chest.

 

"Best player in world." Geno responds. Sid laughs, self-depreciating and under his breath, as he lifts his head up. "Is true." Geno says defensively.

 

"Far from it, Geno. I'd have never made it to the big time."

 

"That why you stop play?"

 

Sid glances over and sees Geno watching him, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration or confusion. Sid's unsure which. "I stopped playing for other reasons. My drive wasn't one of them."

 

Geno makes a soft noise under his breath and his fingers clench like they want to squeeze around Sid's arm. "Then why?"

 

He laughs again, a cruel sound, and he turns his head away. "You ever tell anyone that you like boys, Geno?" Sidney knows he's inferring a lot from Geno's attempted kiss but it's necessary.

 

Under his breath, he mutters a soft, "No."

 

"Good," Sidney says harshly. He turns back to Geno and moves in close, pointing at the ground, "Never tell anyone, okay?"

 

Geno looks imploringly at him. Sidney can feel him searching his eyes and he holds his hard stare as long as he can. He watches Geno's throat work as he tries to swallow, tongue sneaking out to lick his lips. He nods his head minutely, his mouth opening and closing as it sinks in.

 

"Nothing good will ever come from it."

 

\---

 

Geno's set to play the Rangers in the opening series of the Stanley Cup Playoffs so Sidney knows he'll be seeing him again. He'd flown in, he said, specifically to talk to Sid but he had to go back to Pittsburgh. He'd left Sidney with the team's hotel information here in New York though, and he'd asked him to meet him, even just to walk to a game. He'd said he would want to see him.

 

So, it's foolish, Sid believes, but he goes. He's acquired a backpack that someone left in front of him while he was sleeping and he's stuffed it with his jacket, notebook and blanket. He carefully folded his cardboard sign as well, and tucked it between the straps and his back. He really doesn't know why he's standing in front of the swanky hotel, but he stays there with his hands jammed into his pants pockets. He doesn't know what time Geno needs to leave for the game but it's a good amount of blocks to walk. There's a bus out front with a few guys milling around so Sidney doesn't think he's missed him, at least.

 

Sidney turns with a smile at the ready when he hears, "Hey." He winces when he sees that it's a valet for the hotel striding towards him. "Got some place you need to be?" The man says, tone of his voice suggesting that place is not here.

 

He shrugs. "I'm just waiting for someone."

 

"You have no friends here, buddy. Move along," he says and Sidney balks because the guy is actually waving at him, two-handedly.

 

"Problem?" Geno's voice startles a devilish smile out of Sidney and he almost laughs at the valet's look of shock. "Mine friend, buddy."

 

"Oh, I'm—"

 

Geno ignores him in favor of stepping next to Sid. He wraps an arm around him and hugs him in, twisting them to walk in the direction of the arena.

 

Geno's in another one of his suits and Sid hates how well it fits him. He finds his mouth is dry when he goes to speak, "How are you?"

 

"I'm good, Sid," Geno lets go of his shoulders after one more squeeze and casually drops a hand into his own pocket. "How you?"

 

"I'm doing good." He smiles shyly when Geno looks over, "Got a backpack now."

 

Geno smiles back at him but there’s a frown in his voice, "Could have more than backpack, Sid."

 

Sid sighs, "We're going to do this, Geno? I told you—"

 

"Not mean me," Geno hurries to say as they cross the street. "Mean hockey."

 

"Oh," Sid blushes, "oh, I'm—"

 

"S'ok." He smiles.

 

"We don't know what I could have had, Geno," he sighs again.

 

Geno grumbles in Russian before he half-turns to look at Sid as they walk. "Whatever is, is more than street."

 

Sid just shrugs and twists his hands into fists where they're deep in his pockets, "We really don't know that..." Geno goes to open his mouth again and Sid tries to beat him to the punch, changing the subject. "So how's this game going to go? Should I be waving a Rangers or a Penguins flag for tips?"

 

He gets the desired response as Geno half-laughs, a sound that still rumbles from his lower stomach, "Always wave Pens flag, Sid, always." He smiles, leading Geno across another intersection.

 

It's easy for Sid to meet Geno the next day at the hotel, instead of Geno coming to him, to spend his day off together. The Rangers have the home advantage and Geno made it a point that he wanted to see him each of the days he was in town.

 

On Geno's second off day, two games into the series tied 1-1, they choose to wonder aimlessly, somehow making it up and over to Central Park as they talk old hockey. Geno's comfortable with Sidney and he shares story after story of growing up in Magnitogorsk, of how he didn't think he'd get to play hockey; hitting his growth spurt at 16 and finally believing he was big enough to truly compete. Sid just looks up at him as he talks, a feeling of awe settling next to his heart.

 

They're lounging on a bench near the lake, both stretched out and loose limbed. Sid's legs are crossed at the ankles and his hands clasped over his waist. He rolls his shoulders a few times, just staring out across the water.

 

Geno clears his throat and Sid turns away from watching the ducks splashing in the water. "You ever think go home?" He asks, and it's innocent enough, but Sid's breath catches all the same.

 

"There's nothing for me back home, Geno."

 

He makes a soft humming noise, stretching his arms out in front of him before crossing his arms behind his head, leaning back again. "I know you says was bad. Was bad to never go back?"

 

Sid just nods, swallows, and turns his head back to the water. He doesn't verbally respond, letting silence take over until things feel soft and easy once more. "So what are your usual summer plans?"

 

"Depends on playoffs." He sits up, pulling at where his jeans are bunched up. "I'm stay in Pittsburgh until season over. If out too early, was think Worlds."

 

Sid perks up, "World championships?"

 

Geno nods, "Look bad on me for Russia, how I'm leave for NHL, so Russia agent thinks should play for country; help 'win love'." He air quotes. "I'm don't think is possible — lots bad PR when I'm leave — but even Mama thinks Russia happy have me back."

 

"Of course they'd be happy to have you playing for them, Geno." Sid says, and he's a little weary to admit he's been watching him play. He thinks his voice says it for him though, when Geno blushes and ducks his head.

 

"I'm hope."

 

Sid just reaches out across the empty space between them and pats Geno knee. He smiles and waits for Geno to catch his eyes before he wrinkles his nose and pats again. Geno lets out a soft, breathy laugh, and Sid pulls his hand away, looking back out at the water.

 

\---

 

Geno loses the series.

 

Not just Geno, Sid thinks rationally, but the lack of scoring from anyone other than him really sets the Penguins for a loss. They go down fighting but not hard enough, and Geno squeezes Sid so tight after the game five loss before he hops a plane back to Pittsburgh.

 

Sid's sad and well, scared, that he's not going to see him again. He keeps it to himself that last evening, but he wakes in a cold sweat the morning after Geno leaves. He feels like hurling as he claws at the clothing that's too tight, _too tight_ and pants to get his breath back.

 

And then Sid's scared because he accidentally found himself reliant on someone else.

 

He catches the Russian team's games at odd times, stopping at a different sports bar every other day just for a glimpse at Geno's soft eyes and breathtaking smile. He doesn't have a lot of money but he gets something small each time so he's not getting kicked out of places. He's watching Geno compete, playing even better than he did during the Penguins season. It's easy to see he's out to win, to prove himself.

 

Sid spends most of the time Geno's gone thinking about him. When he takes his daily walks, leaving his spot long enough for the cops to never question his staying there overnight, he's mostly left imagining what he'd say if Geno were walking with him. He thinks about the stories he had avoided sharing, and finds that he really wishes he hadn't.

 

It aches something fierce in his chest, a glowing pain he doesn't know how to erase, when he thinks Geno's not going to come back. Sidney thinks himself a rational guy, and he knows a player's mindset. There's nothing for Geno to come back for in New York. He's smart enough to know that Geno's not coming back for him. It doesn't stop him from dreaming the "what if", though.

 

He's been curling up on the blanket, New York finally warming up enough where he's comfortable once more in his jeans and just a little on the cold side in his t-shirt. He's piled the jacket on his shoulder, back to the street and legs curled up for warmth. He's dreaming of Geno, a solid weight pressing against his back and heat seeping through their clothes. There's a smile on his face while he dreams but he wakes each morning with tears crusted in the corners of his eyes. He can't do this to Geno... He can't do it without him.

 

He's not able to catch every game Geno plays — he doesn't have that much money or that much luck — but he somehow manages to see Russia's last game. Geno's not smiling, per say, but he's not moping much either, a bronze medal hanging proudly around his neck. Sid's sad for him, though, knowing Geno wanted to bring home a gold to redeem what he could of himself.

 

Sid doesn't know Russia, but he's willing to bet all the cash he has remaining that they never hated Geno to begin with. Maybe they saw betrayal at first, the Super League and Moscow, but he doubts they were able to hold onto it. Geno's an amazing player, and even Sid can see he deserves to be playing against the best.

 

The bronze medal game is almost three weeks to the day of when Sidney last saw Geno. He's tired and achy, lying on the concrete, tracing patterns in the few stars he's able to see. He's hoping to drift off to sleep.

 

He's sad though, a pressure in his chest tightening around his heart and leaving him bare. He's not really sure but he thinks its presence coincides with Geno's absence. He's pretty sure he'll never see him again, too; sometime over the long summer away Sid's sure Geno's going to forget all about him. Maybe he'll pass by again when the Penguins are next in town but everything Geno has said is fading to a place Sid knows he can't rely on. He's trusted too much in his short years and he's been burned for it every time. It's foolish, he thinks, to trust something someone he barely even knows told him.

 

\---

 

Sid is just waking up a few days later, blinking against the harsh dawn sunlight. He stretches, a dramatic twisting of his limbs as he yawns, long and deep. There's a soft chuckle beside him that wasn't there yesterday and Sidney snaps his head up to meet it.

 

"Easy," Geno smiles at him, gently pushing down on his shoulder. He looks sleep warn and soft, and Sidney wants to cuddle into him, regardless of anything he's ever outwardly said. He can't do it though, and he knows that. He can't ruin Geno, too.

 

"Hi," his voice croaks, and he feels tears prick the corner of his eyes. "I never thought I'd see you again."

 

Geno grimaces a little and pats Sid's shoulder where his hand still lay. "Not want promise I'm be back, just in case." He says it softly with a sad lilt to his voice and Sid pushes it away by forcing himself to move. He knows he shouldn't — he really, really shouldn't — but once he's on his knees he pushes into Geno's space, circling his arms around Geno's shoulders.

 

He tilts his chin down into the curve of Geno's neck, breathes him in. "I'm really glad you're here." He whispers, squeezing him. Geno just rubs soothingly at his back, a gentle presence that reassures Sid of so many things he knows he'll never have.

 

He clears his throat and swiftly wipes his eyes as he pulls away, kneeling until he's resting on his heels. "How long are you here for?"

 

"Two weeks. PR set promo and rest vacation. Have all day today, tomorrow." He smiles.

 

Sidney can't resist the urge to smile back and he's pretty sure they stay that way for a fairly long time. Geno's sleep-rumpled suit eventually pulls him out of it and he startles a bit, "Have you slept at all?" He asks, shifting to mothering over Geno, running his hands down his arms, trying to un-wrinkle the material.

 

Geno just blushes and ducks his head, "Come here from airport, taxi give me weird look when I'm give him address." He laughs a little and Sid's face flushes warm. "Hotel close."

 

"You should go sleep a little," Sidney offers, wrestling with himself. The last thing he wants is for Geno to leave him, now that Sid knows his intentions were never to do that, but he can't let him keep looking as he does, ready to pass out against Sidney's wall.

 

"Should come stay at hotel with me," he says and Sidney's whole body shuts down. His hands are frozen, half way between Geno and himself, and he looks up carefully into Geno's eyes.

 

"You know I can't do that." He shifts until his butt falls off his heels and he can twist his legs around to shield himself. "Geno, nothing's changed. You—" He shakes his head, biting his lip and turning away.

 

"Just want give you place for sleep, Sid."

 

"And do you know what that implies to literally anyone else?" He asks, swinging back around. "I'm not going to do that to you, Geno. I'm not going to let you do it either."

 

"What, let people think I'm nice guy, Sid? Bring friend stay in hotel with two beds?" Geno's growling at him as he says it. "Won't let talk bout Hockey could be, don't let help more than food. Sid, I'm not here cause I'm scare!"

 

"What?" He asks confusedly.

 

"I'm not care what people thinks. I'm here cause I'm want help you." Geno softens as he says it and Sidney's left feeling a fire burning in his belly.

 

"The answers no, Geno. I'm not going to your hotel with you." He says it softly, hoping it helps him get his point across. He knows he won't be able to resist if Geno asks him again so he cuts him off at the source. He keeps his arms wrapped around his knees and drops his head, turning to look down the sidewalk. "Go get some rest," he hopes Geno can't hear his voice shaking.

 

Geno just sighs, long and deep and it shatters what's left of Sidney's dignity. Geno pushes off the ground, shuffling his feet in place, looking down at Sid. "I'm come back when I'm wake up, okay?" He asks.

 

Sid just shrugs, trying to sniff as inconspicuously as possible.

 

Geno sighs again at him and runs his hand over Sidney's street-greased hair. "I'm come back," he says again as he turns and walks away. Sidney just collapses forward and threads his fingers through the strands Geno's had been in.

 

\---

 

Geno shows up again around noon and the first thing Sid does is apologize. Geno's not fond of hearing it but he accepts it even as he tells him there's nothing to apologize for. Sidney feels ashamed for how he acted; here Geno is just trying to help him and he starts a fight about it.

 

When they start a random walk around the city, Sid's head is bent. He's stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and he keeps his eyes just high enough to see other people's feet. He's letting Geno guide him aimlessly.

 

Geno's been talking about Worlds more than anything else and Sid easily jumps on the topic, letting it lead them where it may. He does tell Geno he watched him play and there's a satisfying ache next to his heart when Geno blushes.

 

"Seriously one of the best players I've ever watched," he repeats, just to see Geno flush again.

 

"Thank you," he mumbles back, tilting his own head towards the ground. He clears his throat after they make the next turn, subtly glancing towards Sid. "Can I'm ask few questions?"

 

Sid just sighs and lifts his head towards the sky, shrugging. "You can ask but I might not answer."

 

Geno just nods and knocks his elbow into Sid's. "How old when you leave home?"

 

"Seventeen." He answers, huddling his shoulders up to his ears.

 

"Is being gay why you leave?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Sidney's just grateful the street they're on is quiet.

 

"Partly… I left more so because of the reaction."

 

"Not good?"

 

Sidney sighs again, shrugging, "Yeah, no, definitely wasn't good."

 

"Want tell?" He asks and Sid turns a subtle stink-eye on him. Geno laughs, a soft breathy sound that makes Sid want to shutter. "Is okay." He smiles, "Still like boys?"

 

Sidney blushes a little, "Running away didn't stop that. Sometimes I wish it did though," he grimaces at Geno's low grumble, turning them down another block. "It's okay though. I mean, I like _who_ I am, regardless of where I'm living. I'm just not happy about the 'where I'm living' part."

 

"So why not change?"

 

"Can't." Sid says, pulling his hands from his pockets and swinging his arms. "The US and Canada are friendly but I still need a green card and papers to work. I was too young to apply for them on my own when I got here. Plus, they'd have mailed stuff back to my parents and it wouldn't have been good if they knew where I was."

 

"So never go home?" Geno asks and there's a sad lilt to his voice that catches in Sid's heart.

 

He sighs, "I don't actually have a home to go back to."

 

\---

 

They spend the next few days grabbing lunch and dinner whenever Geno's free of obligations. Sid enjoys it, is contented by it — _likes having Geno near_. He'll take what he can get, frankly, even if it's only himself that's holding them back from being more.

 

He's standing on the corner of 56th and 2nd, waiting for Geno so they can head to dinner. He's leaning on the corner of the building, hands deep in his pockets and belongings at his feet. He keeps his eyes downward, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. He knows this spot isn't necessarily the greatest area and the last thing he wants to do is invite trouble. He's had enough of that in the last year.

 

There's a loud buzzing noise accompanying a crowd through the crosswalk and Sid hunches his shoulders automatically. He knows his hair is greased and his beard and clothes are caked in street grime and dirt; he's a stand-in for a punching bag to a lot of people and he keeps his eyes down as the group approaches.

 

It's four men, all tough and toned; each tower over him and they're laughing with each other as they crowd around. Sidney slinks into himself a little more, rounding his shoulders and tucking his head. They don't care though, and one of them moves forward and grabs a fist-full of his hair.

 

"Look what we have here boys!" He crows, and the others all laugh again. "Another slum of the streets trying to stand around our corner."

 

Another guy cracks his knuckles, glaring at Sid, "Shouldn't be here, boy."

 

Sid lets his head be yanked back, relaxes his neck so the strain isn't too bad. If he's lucky, if he follows or does what they say, maybe they won't do anything, maybe he'll even be alone again by the time Geno comes out of the building.

 

Another of the guys walks around him and pull his arms behind his back. He claps his hands around Sid's wrists and pulls his arms upward. The sudden ache in his shoulders has Sid dropping to his knees, a small sound coming out of his mouth as he falls to the ground.

 

The men just keep talking to each other and laugh every so often, and Sid's just trying to zone them out. The one holding his hair spits down at his face and uses his other hand to reach into Sidney's pockets.

 

He doesn't have much in there, he knows, and these guys have definitely picked the wrong guy to steal from if they actually wanted to walk away with anything. Sidney knows it's not about that though, so he jerks his hips and tries to swing his arms, holding tight to any dignity he has left. The hand in his pocket shifts around and Sid makes a high-pitched noise as the man grabs painfully at his balls. It stops his movements for the moment and the guy takes advantage, pulling what little cash Sid had from his pocket.

 

The guy holding his arms doesn't budge and another swings his leg forward, kicking into Sid's ribs. He tries to crouch forward, dragging down the guy that's holding him as he curls up on the ground. He keeps making choking sounds in the back of his throat but the street's barren and Sid knows he's out of luck.

 

His top arm comes loose and he wraps it across his knees, pulling them back into his chest as he's twisted by where the guy still has him. There's a low level of yelling breaking through his haze and the guy gets in one last swift kick before they're running and Sid's left to catch himself on the ground.

 

He's still in a ball, tearless sobs catching in his throat and his chest on fire. He feels stabbed a thousand times over, pin pricks of heat where his shirt catches on his skin and he twists around, pressing his forearm to the ground and pushing up.

 

"Shh, don't move," he hears but Sidney ignores it, using the strength he has left to pull his hand up to his face. He scrubs at his eyes and coughs harshly, the sound catching in his throat like he's choking.

 

There's someone pushing at his shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back and Sid keeps rubbing at his eyes, trying to clear them so he can see. When his vision comes back, it's Geno kneeling next to him on the concrete and rubbing his hands over Sidney's flesh. He's pushed Sid's shirt up and out of the way, feeling around, Sid thinks, for broken bones.

 

"It's," his voice croaks, "it's not that bad."

 

"Bullshit," Geno snaps, pushing back on Sid's shoulders when he tries to sit up. "Happen before?" He asks and Sid can hear the tears catching in his voice. He lets his head fall to the pavement, still rubbing at his eyes and nods ever so slightly.

 

Geno's breath is shaky as he continues feeling around, poking and prodding at Sid's skin. He hisses in pain whenever Geno catches a sore spot but he's pretty sure nothing's broken. Bruised ribs are always a bitch though, he knows. He moves his hands from his eyes to still the closest of Geno's and he can feel the other man shaking. Sid's eyes widen a little and he ignores every protest as something grips coldly at his heart. "Hey," he pushes upward and wraps his hand over and through Geno's. "Hey, I'm—it's okay."

 

Geno bites his lip and shakes his head, drooping into Sidney's space. He lets their foreheads come together and shudders through a breath. There's a soft sound of laughter and a slight hint of his smile when he pushes further into Sid's space and their mouths fit together.

 

Sidney doesn't stop it or pull away; he lets himself sink into it as Geno's other arm wraps around him and pulls him closer. He feels resigned and softened inside. He still won't let Geno do this but he'll give him this. He'll give himself this, too.

 

Even when he pulls away, Geno keeps their heads close, their noses rubbing together. "No more excuse, Sid. Come stay at hotel." He pulls further back and their eyes lock, and Sidney couldn't refuse even if he wanted to anymore. "With me."

 

He shudders a breath in and nods, "Okay." Geno's answering smile is more like a beam of light and Sidney chuckles in the face of it. "Only while you're here." Geno's quick to nod at that and Sidney sighs as they move to stand.

 

He's grimacing and it's only Geno's hands that keep him on his feet when he makes it there. He's sliding onto Geno's shoulder as the other man leans down to grab Sid's bag and he's utterly thankful those guys didn't take those few things he has. "Okay, Sid?" Geno asks, looking down at him. "Need hospital?"

 

"No," he answers quickly, pushing away a little to stand more on his own feet. "No hospital, please." He says, and Geno's soft nod makes his heart rate slow a little.

 

"Okay, Sid," he just repeats, wrapping an arm under Sid's shoulders as they start to walk.

 

"How was your meeting?" Sid asks when they're waiting to cross the street, only one avenue block away from the hotel.

 

"Is fine," Geno says distractedly, looking up at the streetlight and back to the crosswalk sign. "Just more interview. At least give me translator."

 

Sid laughs at that and punches Geno weakly in the arm. Geno smiles back at him. "You speak great English, Geno, you don't need a translator."

 

Geno's tongue pokes out of the side of his smile and Sid laughs again as they start to walk. "Course I'm do. Can make fun interview with translator."

 

Sid just pats his shoulder as they round the last corner, "Whatever you say, Geno."

 

"You still okay?" He asks as they reach the hotel door, pushing it open and letting Sid walk through first.

 

He throws a smile over his shoulder, still leaning into Geno's hold. "Yeah, it's really not that bad."

 

Geno makes a face at that, leading Sid to the elevator before heading over to the concierge desk. Sidney doesn't know what he's asking for but he's gesturing wildly, voice muffled by the distance. He's smiling when he turns back to Sidney just in time for the elevator to get there. They hobble in together and Geno pushes for his floor.

 

The take the elevator in silence and the walk to his room is much of the same. Sid's been in swanky places before but they've never hit him quite like this. ' _Geno can afford to stay here_ ,' he thinks; and Sidney knows it's likely the team whose paying for it but he still sticks out like a sore, purple thumb — they really, really don't fit together.

 

Sidney's got one arm curled into his chest and the other wrapped around Geno's waist as they head to the couch in the room. Geno pushes Sid onto it and grabs the hem of the shirt. Sid grumbles but Geno moves him delicately so his arms don't stretch the bruising he can already feel. Once his shirt's gone, Sid can see why Geno was so worried on the street. There are purple bruises popping up practically everywhere he can see. He glances back up at Geno and the other man's already looking at him. "It's really okay," he tries to say but Geno shushes him and pushes at his shoulder until he lies down.

 

Geno mothers over him, grabbing hand towels and washrags from the bathroom and gently pressing on spots to double check that nothing's broken. When there's a knock on the door a few minutes later, Geno disappears, stepping back into sight wheeling in a cart littered with ice buckets. Sidney frowns and starts to protest but Geno just pushes his hands away. "Need ice or bruise get worse."

 

He kneels down on the floor near Sid's head as he works. He grabs a towel, fills it with ice, and curls the ends back to make a bag. There are rubber bands on the table as well and Geno uses them to secure the ends before plopping them down onto Sidney's chest.

 

Sid makes a yelping noise with each new ice pack and Geno's working through laughter by the end of it. Sidney's trying to stay still because the bruises do actually hurt but he's laughing by the end as well, truly feeling carefree for the first time since he was sixteen.

 

"How you do?" Geno asks after using the last towel to wipe down his face. Sid's chest is covered in white, ice packs sitting over each and every bruise and he rolls his eyes at Geno, pushing at the shoulder closest to him.

 

"Still okay, Geno."

 

He watches him push off the floor and head for the bedroom of the suite — two beds his ass, Sid thinks. There's a light on in the living room but Geno doesn't flip the one in the bedroom and only a soft glow follows him in. He's turned away from Sid when he pulls his shirt off but the muscles in his back ripple and Sid's left with dry-mouth, smacking his lips together to try to get some moisture back. He barely hears Geno ask him a question and he shakes his head out and looks away.

 

"What?" He asks, playing it off like he just couldn't hear him.

 

Bad decision, Sid thinks, when Geno appears in the doorway shirtless. He leans against the frame and his arms are crossed over his chest, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. "I said I'm going order dinner. You want special?"

 

"Oh, uh, no. Thanks. Whatever—" he stutters, "whatever you're having is fine with me."

 

"Mm kay." He pushes off the doorframe and turns back into the bedroom. "I'm think we watch movie maybe. See what on?"

 

Sidney takes the moment alone in the room to gather himself, grimacing as he reaches a hand back to grab the TV remote. He's willing the flush he feels in his cheeks to calm down as he flips on the TV and starts scrolling through some channels. Geno comes back into the room donning sweats, the first time Sid's seen him in less than a suit or nice jeans, and slides onto the end of the couch. He lifts Sidney's feet up and drops them into his lap, rubbing softly at his ankles. Sidney settles the TV on a rerun of Friends; even being out on the street for so long he still remembers it word for word.

 

They get through almost a full episode before there's another knock at the door and Geno leaves to go grab their dinner. Sid pushes himself up against the armrest and lets the ice packs all slide down his chest. The bruising glistens in their wake, looking no less worse for wear. Sid's just staring down at himself, the rags all pooled in his lap, when Geno comes back into the room. He's dangling a t-shirt in front of Sid and it's clean and never been worn in the street and Sid automatically reaches for it. He pulls the fabric up to his nose and takes a deep breath in. It smells like Geno. "Are you sure?" He asks, voice shaky on the words as he looks up at him.

 

"Put on, Sid," he smiles, "food here."

 

Sid smiles at him and slowly pulls the shirt on, leaning back against the couch cushions. Geno's wheeling the room service cart towards him so Sid puts his feet on the coffee table edge and pushes it back, Geno and the cart sliding into the open space.

 

"Hope you like steak," he says, pulling one of the dish covers away.

 

Sidney's mouth waters staring at the perfectly cooked piece of meat. There's a potato on the side that's spilling butter and mixed vegetables steamed next to that. "Yes," he laughs out, reaching for the dish Geno passes to him.

 

Geno's just smiling at him, looking content, and Sidney can't help smiling back. He'll worry about heartache tomorrow.

 

\---

 

Tomorrow doesn't so much as "come" as it does "fade in" to today. After dinner Geno offered Sidney a full change of clothes and the opportunity to shower. He takes it, beyond grateful, and sits under the spray for twenty minutes before he starts to wash.

 

It's been a year since he last showered — he doesn't think rainfall counts as getting clean — so when he soaps up the rag and scrubs at his arms, he digs. His skin is bright red when he emerges, sensitive and soft, the way he hasn't felt in so long. His hair isn't a stringy mess upon his head, caked and greased over and caked some more; as it starts to dry it fluffs up in a way Sidney didn't think it could anymore. Geno's left a spare razor in the bathroom and Sid's so relieved to see it; he jumps on the chance to get rid of the beard he's had no choice to grow, trimming it short first and then shaving it away. After, he stares in the mirror at the water droplets running down his body and mixing in with the short hairs; he's bruised and purple in the ribs but it's a body he hasn't seen in forever, and he starts to smile.

 

He reaches for a towel and lightly runs it over himself, catching all the water. He runs it through his hair a few times before flipping his head back, any remaining water flicked away with it. He's smiling so brightly that it actually starts to hurt his face and he laughs at himself. He pulls Geno's clothes on slowly; they're big basically everywhere but his ass and Sid laughs at himself again. He still has bigger hockey ass than Geno does.

 

He glances at his reflection one more time, trying to school his expression, and reaches for the doorknob. He flicks off the light as he walks out, following the trail of it through the suite to the door of the bedroom. Geno's sitting against the headboard, covers pulled up to his waist, leaving a huge space next to him on the bed. It's clearly an invitation and Sidney's hesitant to take it. He fidgets where he stands in the doorway until Geno looks up at him, doing a double take.

 

"Sid," he says, and the word sounds breathless and choked all at once. Sidney fiddles with the fingers of his other hand, twisting and turning them as he shifts foot to foot, his eyes on the ground. "Sid," Geno says again, a good thirty seconds later. Sidney looks up from the floor when he follows his name with a soft, "Come 'ere."

 

Throwing his caution to the wind, he steps inside the room. He smiles shyly at the look on Geno's face when he reaches the bed; slowly crawling into it and into the space Geno gave to him. He lies down on his stomach and stuffs both arms up underneath the pillow that's against the headboard. He smiles again, a giddy feeling filling his insides and taking over until he twists his face into the sheets and starts to laugh. Geno's rubbing a hand against his upper back and waiting him out and Sidney still doesn't believe this can work but he's willing to let that go for tonight.

 

He shifts his face out of the covers, eyes still bright and crinkled and a smile still on his lips; he looks over at Geno and sees a smile on his face, too. "Hi," he says, curling his hands into fists.

 

"Hi," Geno smiles back, slowly leaning in and down until their lips brush. Geno keeps it soft and chaste, barely pursing his lips into Sid's. He doesn't need to make it any stronger for Sid to feel the sensation down to his bones, warming him from the inside out until he shivers the last tendril of cold away.

 

Sidney reaches one hand up to Geno's jaw, holding it softly beneath his palm before he pulls away. He strokes it once as Geno pulls back, closing the book he was reading and putting it on the nightstand. He shifts down under the covers, on his side facing Sid, and reaches out a hand to stroke his arm just above the elbow. Sidney sighs contentedly and shifts onto his side, too, pulling the pillow down under his head. "Tell me about Russia."

 

Geno licks his lips, "What you want know?"

 

"Where did you grow up?"

 

Geno smiles softly at him, "Magnitogorsk; steel town high in Russia. Very cold winter but good summer. I'm baby in family: mama, papa, Denis and me. Live in one-bedroom apartment until I'm buy house after sign with Magnitka." He lifts a hand and rubs at his eyes, "Was good. Grow close. Miss them lots when I'm here." When he drops his hand, Sid sees his eyes are shining with tears.

 

"I'm see them in Russia for Worlds. Been long time, not call or see; Mama hold me tight when I'm see her." Sidney smiles encouragingly at him, shifting his arm so Geno's hand rests on his own.

 

"They must've really missed you," he squeezes Geno's hand.

 

Geno nods at him and his smile is a little sad, his eyes glistening. "I'm tell them, Sid."

 

Sidney doesn't know what that means but he holds Geno's stare while he waits for him to elaborate. He doesn't need him to, though, as he realizes what Geno means, it hitting him all at once. He pulls back, propping himself up on his elbow and jerking his hand away from Geno's. He's shaking his head, tears pricking his eyes, and he pushes until he's sitting up, folding over his legs with his head in his hands. He rubs roughly at his scalp, emotion overwhelming in his heart and feeling like it’s ripping itself to shreds before he schools himself. He warned Geno. He knows the likelihood of what happened to him happening to Geno is small but the hate, the fear and disgust, those at the very least are universal. He clears his throat and lifts up just enough to say, "What happened?"

 

Geno sits up beside him and rubs a hand against Sid's back again as he talks. "Mama cry," Sid flinches, "calls me stupid boy. Tell me 'always have make life hard.' She hug me so tight I'm think she crack rib." Geno laughs, squeezing his hand around Sid's shoulder. "My parents okay, Sid. Happy for me if I'm happy."

 

Sid chokes a little at that, startled into a laugh and smile. He's relieved, for Geno. There's an ache in his chest that's lessening so he turns his head over his shoulder, tears and all, and smiles watery. "I'm so happy for you, Geno."

 

Geno's not smiling back, staring at Sid with his forehead creased in concern and his eyes half-lidded. "What happen to you, Sid?"

 

His smile drops and he shakes his head at him, slowly leaning back against the pillows. He runs one hand lightly over his ribs, the movement jarring them to hurt again, just enough to distract his mind from actually answering Geno. He rubs soothing circles across his chest before clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach. "Did you know I have a sister?" He asks, and it's painful, incredibly so, but somehow still less than his parents betrayal. "She's, God, she's eleven now."

 

Geno makes a sad sound in the back of his throat, stretching a hand out to cover Sid's. He brushes his thumb against the soft hairs on Sid's hand and it helps dry his tears.

 

"I miss her. I don't even know if she remembers me."

 

"She remember, Sid, I'm promise." Geno smiles encouragingly when he looks over. "You not easy forget."

 

He laughs suddenly and turns his hand over so Geno's fingers fall through his. He squeezes. "You're not so forgettable yourself."

 

Geno sticks his tongue out of the side of his smile, "I'm know."

 

\---

 

They don't fall asleep until the sun starts pushing at the horizon. Sid's used to it, catching hours here and there when he can afford to let his guard down. Geno wakes up cranky, growling at Sid's slight movements. They shared the bed but they didn't touch, and beyond their two kisses they'd only held hands.

 

When Geno actually comes to, groggy and foggy-eyed, the first thing he does is check Sidney's bruises. Sid tries to keep the shirt he's wearing down, not wanting to make a big deal, but the light brushes of skin are killing him and he loses out soon enough. Geno forces him into the bathroom after that, stumbling his way through the suite, and pushes him to sit at the tub's edge before leaving the room.

 

When he returns he just waves a hand lazily at Sidney, reaching down passed him to flip the faucet. He plays with the temperature dials for a few seconds, sighing contently when he finds what he was looking for. He turns back to Sid with a stink-eye and grumbles at him in Russian for a few minutes. Sid just smiles and pieces together what Geno's looking for through his gestures.

 

He blushes as he pulls the shirt over his head, wringing it in his hands. He glances up quick at Geno before he shifts and stands back up, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the sweat pants Geno lent him.

 

They both hear the knock at the hotel door and Geno turns heel to answer. Sid sighs out, grateful for the interruption, and hurriedly pulls off the rest of his clothes before sitting into the tub. The water only covers about halfway up his thighs so he cups his hands over himself and sinks down into the water, closing his eyes.

 

Geno returns when the water's flooded up to his elbows, obscuring any real look at the skin below his chest. He's glad he showered last night or there'd be grime floating around him. Last night and this morning is the most relaxed he's been years and he's so, so grateful. He tips his chin towards Geno and blinks his eyes open, smiling softly when he finds him on the closed toilet seat sipping at a mug.

 

"Is tea," he gestures, his first English of the day. "Can make you?" He offers. He points over to the doorway and Sid sees the teapot on another room service cart. It's filled again with ice buckets and Sid shakes his head and sighs, knowing what will come next.

 

He lets himself relax a little more in the warm water, tilting his head back. He watches Geno move through half-lidded eyes, grabbing something off the bathroom counter before plopping down onto the floor in front of the tub. He lets his head lull sideways and watches Geno pour something into the water. Geno rests the nook of his elbow against the edge and lets his hand fall into the water. He pushes around at the surface and Sid laughs when he sees bubbles start piling up. Geno just smirks at him and rests his chin on the edge of the tub, one hand still pushing at the water's surface.

 

"I'm love bubble bath. Not get lots when I'm kid so do lots now."

 

"It's really relaxing," Sid says, letting go of himself and letting his hands float to the surface. His fingers brush against Geno's and he watches Geno's face flush before he turns away to get another sip of tea.

 

"Should help bruise fade, too," he says when he pulls the mug back.

 

Sid nods, smiling at him. "Do you have anything planned for the day?"

 

"No," he leans back into the tub, shifting his fingers to grab at Sid's occasionally. "Last night last meeting. Might have more next week but done til then."

 

Sid flips his hand around and laces his fingers with Geno's. "I have no plans either." Geno laughs suddenly at that and Sid just smiles. He's not sure he can resist this anymore.

 

By the time he gets out of the tub, half the ice has melted away. What is still solid gets split between a few hand towels and strewn across his chest while they watch morning cartoons. It's early still and they'd gone to bed late, so Sidney winds up closing his eyes and falling asleep on the couch, his hand still wrapped up in Geno's.

 

\---

 

The next few days pass in much of the same manor. They stay in, Geno mothering over Sidney's bruises until the purple turns yellow and starts to fade. They're quick to grab each other's hands now, too, but Sid restricts what little kissing they try. He's grateful Geno's a gentleman, never pushing for what Sid isn't willing to give, but he knows what Geno wants in the long run and Sidney can't give that to him.

 

By the weekend, they've told each other most of their life stories. Sidney knows that Geno was picked on as a little boy because of his size but that it helped create his heart of gold. He says he wouldn't have helped Sid if he hadn't recognized him but Sidney's not so sure he believes that one. Geno knows that Sidney's best friend at Shattuck had been Jack Johnson, begs to use some of the stories Sid shares as chirping material; Sidney just laughs and doesn't answer. Geno learns that Sidney never planned for a life other than hockey. He doesn't know why Sid left home, just that he had no options after he did so. Sid leaves that area blank and hazy except for a few shared words about what he's done to survive it all.

 

When the bruises have faded enough that they don't slow Sidney's movements or hurt him too much, they start walking around the city again, stopping into small restaurants to grab lunch, a pub for dinner. Geno talks through it all and Sidney listens, fascinated by his life story and just the small details he shares about life in Pittsburgh. He loves it, is pretty sure he loves Geno, too.

 

Sid stays in the hotel room when, two days before Geno has to leave, he has his last interview. It's over breakfast so he left while Sid was sleeping, and Sid wakes slowly, clutching Geno's pillow to his chest. He has his face buried in the fabric, breathing in shampoo and distinct _Geno._ He lounges there while he wakes and tries to take it all in, tries to imagine what it'll be like in two more days.

 

Geno's flight back to Pittsburgh is scheduled mid-day and he hasn't asked Sidney to go with him to airport. He's stopping at his house there for a few days before he has a ticket back home to Russia, to his family and to friends and a life that, just for knowing Sid, could dismantle around him. But Geno's parents know he's gay and they're _happy_ for him.

 

Sidney crawls off the bed and over to the suitcase open on the floor. He shouldn't do it, he thinks, but he rummages through some things before he comes across a hoodie Geno had worn two nights prior. He slips it on, curled up on the floor. He flips the hood up and turns his face into the neck, breathes in deeply.

 

Geno finds him in that same spot what must be at least an hour later. Sidney doesn't try to hide or to brush it off; he just pushes himself to his feet and walks towards the other man. He pauses in front of him, fingers fiddling with the hem of the hoodie, staring up into Geno's eyes. Geno's eyes are filled with hope, Sid thinks, and longing and something Sidney can't place. He lets himself be folded up into the feeling as Geno's hands come to rest at his hips and Sid leans in and tilts his face up. Geno smiles briefly before he closes the gap.

 

Sidney doesn't hold back when their lips touch but he feels as Geno does. He doesn't want that anymore, careful and slow; Geno's earned his trust with how little he's pushed, with how much he's let Sidney control. He drops the shirt's hem and wraps both hands around the back of Geno's neck. He keeps his thumbs level against his jaw and tilts Geno's head, pressing against his cheeks ever so gently and Geno's mouth drops open. Sidney licks inside, his whole body lighting up at the warmth that suddenly seems to surround him.

 

Geno groans into his mouth and shifts his hips closer, his fingers flexing against Sidney's sides. Sid answers his groan with a breathless hitch before he surges forward into Geno, knocking him back into the doorframe of the bedroom. He runs one hand down the side of his jaw, his neck, and squeezes at his shoulder, before sliding it down Geno's arm until he's grasping at his hand. He tilts his head a little more so the strain isn't as much when he shifts Geno's hand on his hip, wrapping it around until it's resting on his ass. He groans when Geno squeezes, pulling back to breath heavily between them for a second.

 

Geno's breaths are just as fast and his jaw clicks as he works to swallow. Sidney takes in all the sounds, resting there with his eyes still closed until Geno starts to speak anxiously at him. "Sid, Sid?"

 

Sidney blinks his eyes open, a smile on his lips. "Yeah?" He asks, tilting back to look into Geno's eyes. Geno just lights up at whatever he sees in Sidney's face, licks his lips once, and leans down, capturing Sid's mouth again.

 

He's much less tentative this time, squeezing the hand that's barely covering one side of Sid's ass and pulling Sid towards him, thrusting his tongue into Sid's mouth in a rhythm that's easy for Sid to lose himself in. He squeezes at Geno's shoulder again, sliding his hand down what little space there is between them before pushing back up under Geno's shirt. He scratches his nails softly across Geno's peck before he pulls back, shuffling his feet and dragging Geno along until he hits the bed. Sid looks up at him nervously, bites at his lip a little, and tilts his head questioningly.

 

Geno just nods, still breathing hard, and leans into Sid until he falls back onto the bed, legs still hanging off. They elbow-crawl their way to the head of the bed together, Geno tilted off to the side, with the occasional kiss pausing their movements. Sidney groans against the feeling of Geno hardening against his thigh once they're settled at the top; he's licking lazily into the other man's mouth and the reaction makes his whole body flush and shiver, gripping at Geno's hips where his hands rest.

 

Geno kisses across his jaw line and down his neck, tongue flicking out at his pulse point and his teeth and lips teasing at the skin. Sid just holds on, his head thrown back and mouth wide open, trying to pull in breaths. He moves against the thigh Geno has between his legs and grinds his thigh into Geno's pelvis, too.

 

"Sid," Geno's sighing out again, moving his own hips in the rhythm they've created. Sid just pushes at Geno's temple with his chin until he gets the hint, tilting his face up so Sid can gasp into his mouth.

 

"Geno, please," Sid whispers in the heat between their lips.

 

Geno nods against Sid's head and slides a hand down between their bodies, cupping Sid through the material of his pants. He presses down with the heel of his hand and Sid whites out a little with the tingling sensation that intensifies, grinding up wildly against his palm. He keeps breathing into Geno's mouth and he shifts his hands to press down on Geno's shoulders for better leverage and then he's cumming, a bright hot light behind his eyes and a hitch to his breath. He lets it out on a small whine and pants through the aftershocks, twisting his hips away from Geno's palm.

 

Geno nips at his lips in the stillness that follows, still a sense of urgency from his side, but Sid loves how he's not going to push. He's not demanding that Sid do him too, or even that he's necessary to do; he lets Sid drown in his afterglow and doesn't force anything. It's what makes Sidney's heart seize up and give way, turning himself towards Geno and sliding his hand underneath the fabric of his pants.

 

Sidney cups Geno, skin-to-skin, feeling the weight of him in his palm. He likes the feel, Geno's length and girth, and he gets aggressive with it, tugging up in a rhythm he used to love. He uses his wrist to twist when he gets to the top and Geno cracks, a moan leaking out of his throat on every upstroke. He's pushing himself into Sid's fist and helping him along, one of his own hands pushing down on his chest as he thrusts upward. His breath starts hitching and his dick twitches in Sid's palm and Sid smooths the skin up and down one last time before Geno lets go, his shoulders curling up off the mattress and his groan catching in his throat, coming out cracked and raw as Geno's cum stripes Sid's hand.

 

He tries to do the same for Geno as Geno did for him and pulls his hand from Geno's pants, resting back against the pillow. Geno doesn't want alone time to settle into his afterglow though, and he curls into Sid, pulling him into his chest so they fit against one another, Sid's head resting against Geno's peck. He keeps his hand out of the way so Geno's cum doesn't get on anything but relaxes into his hold otherwise.

 

It's a good ten minutes later, afternoon approaching, before Sid's stomach rumbles and Geno laughs, reaching a hand back for the hotel phone. He presses a button without looking and someone answers on the other side. Sid smiles when he realizes Geno's ordering them room service, content to spend the whole day in bed if they can.

 

When Geno hangs up he wraps his arm back around Sidney, squeezing him tightly to his chest. "Be here forty minutes. Lunch busy they say."

 

"And you want to nap?" Sid laughs a little, looking up to Geno's face but only seeing the bottom of his chin.

 

"Shh, I'm sleep til knock," he whispers back, already sounding like he's dreaming. Sid just smiles to himself and snuggles down, falling asleep holding onto and being held by Geno.

 

\---

 

The mid-day sun is bright when the knock sounds on the door. Geno grumbles but thankfully gets up to answer it, wheeling the cart into the bedroom. Sid's hand feels crusted where Geno's cum dried and his pants a little stiff where his own did, so he excuses himself to the bathroom.

 

He avoids his reflection in the mirror, keeping his eyes trained on his hands as the thoughts race through his head. He doesn't feel used, thank god, like he was scared to, but he does feel sad, melancholy. There's an inevitable end and it's barely 48 hours away now... He rests his palms on the countertop and lets his weight sag into them, his head dropping between his shoulder blades. He sniffs back the wetness he can feel rimming his eyes and lifts a hand to brush it away.

 

He finally glances up at himself, staring at what he's become. It's been so hard to see on the streets but he sees it here. He's skin and bones and hockey ass that never disappeared. He's pale with a sunken face, dark bags hovering beneath his eyes. When he was sixteen he looked fresh, new and ready to take on the world; at nineteen he just looks old and tired of it all. He feels alive when he looks at Geno, finds a thrill for life and what it could be. He's trying not to get attached, _he is_ , but he can't help it anymore. In two days Geno will be gone and he'll be back to nothing more than what he sees in this mirror.

 

Sidney goes back to the bedroom to find Geno sitting at the foot of the bed, feet tucked up under him. He's holding a sandwich, half-eaten, in one hand and the television remote in the other. He looks more at ease than Sidney has ever seen him and it helps relax him, settling onto the bed next to him.

 

They spend the entire day that way, eating, laughing, and watching TV. They don't keep any form of distance anymore, Geno draping across Sid on the couch, Sid huddling into Geno's arms in the bedroom. They get room service again for dinner and follow it up with another make out session, contented just to be close to one another. It doesn't get too hot or heavy and they settle down into bed just holding one another, drifting off to sleep not too long after.

 

They're still wrapped around one another when Sidney wakes up in the morning.

 

\---

 

Geno's last full day is spent wandering the city. They hit a restaurant in Times Square, walk Central Park, talk... Sidney doesn't think he could ever get sick of hearing Geno talk. They follow up the daytime plans with cuddling on the couch in the hotel room, the sun setting through buildings outside the window.

 

Sidney leads Geno to bed shortly after the sun clears the horizon, holding his hand and pulling him along. Geno doesn't need much coaxing, following Sidney willingly across the room. He falls back on the bed when Sid pushes softly at his chest, pushing himself up to the top with Sid crawling over him. Sidney settles over Geno's waist, kneeling above him and curling down to kiss at his mouth. He's a little frantic in his movements though, kissing as much of the skin exposed over Geno's shirt collar that he can and his hands fluttering over Geno's chest. He feels restless and anxious with adrenaline coursing through him, dropping both hands to work open the button on Geno's pants.

 

Sid moans, Geno's hands tightening in his hair, when his pants are finally down. Sidney doesn't waste a second, sucking kisses down his jaw line and neck. He's coming apart where he's thrusting idly at Geno's body, not really rubbing on a leg or a hip but rather just over Geno. He finally works a hand into Geno's pants and Geno throws his head back, a gorgeous sound ripping from his throat. It pauses Sidney's movements and he's staring down at Geno in awe, thinking _I did that,_ before he snaps back into focus with renewed effort, working Geno's pants down over his hips and letting Geno kick them off.

 

Geno's hands are clumsy where they shift down to Sid's pants, unbuttoning and unzipping as best he can before shoving at the material. It takes the two of them to work them over Sid's ass in that position. Geno's making thick sounds in the back of his throat and Sidney leans down to capture them, dropping down and grinding his hips into Geno and letting him thrust back up. Sid feels wild with an urgency humming beneath his skin and he pushes his hand back into Geno's underwear, stroking him as best he can.

 

Sid's barely able to balance his weight above Geno because he's moving so much. Geno takes control though, sliding both of his hands into Sid's underwear, groping at Sid’s dick and pulling and tugging and twisting. Sidney makes a sound long and loud in the back of his throat as Geno catches his foreskin just right, pulling Sid's orgasm from him. He shakes through it, thrusting into Geno's grip, and his cum pools into his underwear, across Geno's hands.

 

Sid lets out an obscene noise, renewing his efforts on Geno's cock, trying to pull his orgasm out the same way Geno did his. Geno's pulled his hands free of Sid's waistband but seems to blank after that, leaving them to hover between the two of them. Sidney can't find the words but he's throwing his head up and down, making _uh, uh, uh_ , sounds and hoping Geno gets the hint. He does, lifting his left hand to Sid's mouth and letting him lick it clean.

 

Geno's eyes are blown wide open, the color of them almost invisible behind his pupils, and he takes his cue from Sid. Sid knows he's clean; he's never done a drug a day in his life and the last time he actively had sex he was 16 and scared and always, always used a condom. Geno licks at his other hand, pulling Sid's cum from his skin like a candy he can't get enough of. Geno's trust reverberates through Sidney's chest, his heart pounding with a renewed vigor, knowing he could take just this moment and be happy for the rest of his life.

 

Geno cums on an upstroke, curling his shoulders off the pillows and burying his head into Sidney's neck, still sucking on one of his own fingers. He collapses back to the bed and grins lazily around it at Sid, his eyes already drooping.

 

Sid lets Geno's fingers fall from his mouth, "Hey, no," he starts. His voice is rough with disuse and Geno shivers at the sound. "No sleeping."

 

"Not sleeping," Geno grumbles back.

 

Sidney laughs and rolls off him, laying back into the pillows they accumulated over the week. There must be ten of them, all together, so he's propped up to almost sitting against the headboard and he stretches his arm out in an invitation. Geno takes it, curling into Sid's side and resting his head over Sid's chest. He hums and Sidney feels the vibration of it; it makes him feel like he's drowning in Geno. He tucks his clean hand into Geno's hair and presses his cheek to the top of his head, trying to stow away the moment so he always has it.

 

\---

 

"Was hard," Geno says a little while later. They've shifted apart on the bed, just resting comfortably together; Geno lying on his back next to Sid but still tucked in close. Geno's tracing lazy patterns in the air above them with his pointer finger, his other hand resting on his chest.

 

Sid squeezes where his arm is still wrapped around Geno's shoulders and nudges his forehead into Geno's temple, a silent show of support.

 

"Leave family, friends." He drops his hand to rub at his forehead, "I'm only know Sergei when I'm get here. Don't know English." He turns his head up to look into Sid's eyes, "First night I'm here I'm go dinner with _Mario Lemieux_. Crazy."

 

Sid huffs a laugh and shifts a little closer, "For sure."

 

"My parents want me go, you know? They know I'm want NHL. But leave them when could be danger..." He trails off, looking a little sick at the thought.

 

Sid just twists so his chest is pressing against Geno's side, "You know they wouldn't have held anything against you." He knows it himself because of how much Geno's shared with him since they started staying together. Each walk or sunset has yielded at least one story of their unconditional support for whatever makes Geno happy. His parents love him desperately and only want the absolute best; it's a fact that's bled out of every detail Geno has shared. There hasn't been much about his escape from Russia and the Super League so Sidney knows how special this conversation is.

 

"Yes." Geno wipes at his eyes. "Of course... but not make okay."

 

"Everything turned out fine though, right, Geno? You even got to play for Russia internationally."

 

"Yes," Geno whispers. "Just can't help think, 'what if' everything not okay?"

 

Sidney smiles with the feelings that flood through him. He's in love with this man, can't even try denying it anymore. "But it was." He whispers back and squeezes Geno, "Everything was fine and — _God, Geno_... You don't even know how amazing you are."

 

Geno's lips curl into a half smile at that and he twists around to face Sid. "You amazing," he whispers into the space between them, his eyes fixated on Sidney's mouth, watching his smile. "Gorgeous," he mumbles as he swoops in close and presses his lips to Sid's.

 

It's soft at first, though not chaste; just pressing their lips together before Geno slowly snakes a tongue out and licks over the seam of Sid's mouth. He gasps and his mouth falls open to Geno's exploration. They've been doing this a lot, kissing, but Sidney doesn't feel the slightest bit sick of it, and shifts to climb into Geno's lap. He snakes his free hand slowly down Geno's torso, lightly tickling at each inch of skin. 

 

Geno pulls back with a sigh, his chin tilted up towards Sid's mouth and his eyes full of promise. "What you want?" He asks, staring down the barrel of his nose at Sid, his voice still barely above a whisper. "I'm give you, Sid, whatever you want."

 

"I want to blow you," Sidney whispers back, his face flushing with heat. Geno groans at that, nodding his head along to Sidney's request.

 

"Anything," he whispers again and Sid shifts to drag him back into a kiss, pressing open-mouthed breaths into his skin. Sidney mouths his way slowly down Geno's torso, sucking kissing into his neck before making his way towards one nipple. He licks at it, circling the hardening nub with the tip of his tongue as Geno grabs fists-fulls of his hair again. It makes Sidney's breath catch and a moan escape his throat, redoubling his effort to reach Geno's cock.

 

"God, Geno," Sid whispers as he slides down, his hips coming to rest on the bed between Geno's open legs. He stares up at his dick for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it in one hand — Sidney _knows_ he looks more than a little dumbfounded — and he makes the mistake of looking up at Geno's face. His eyes are blown wide and he's panting for breath; he has one hand twisted in his own hair and the other stroking at Sid's. He's gorgeous like this and Sid freezes in the moonlight, trying to engrain each detail into his memory.

 

" _Sid_ ," Geno groans and wiggles the hand that's in Sidney's hair to get his attention.

 

Sidney licks his lips and mumbles, "Right, yeah," to himself before tentatively licking at the head. Geno's breathing picks up from its already erratic pace and Sidney's got this, he knows; there's no reason to feel scared. He leans forward again and wraps his lips around the head, tonguing at Geno's foreskin. The hand in his hair encourages him and he opens his mouth further, sinking down as far as he can and covering the rest inside his fist. He moans around Geno, thick and hot and _leaking_ against the back of his throat and he sucks, Geno trashing his head around on the pillow. Sidney bobs his head, letting the semi-conscious stream of moans flow from his throat, and it only seems to drive Geno further into pleasure.

 

Sidney's grinding his hips against the bed, his jaw sore and feeling so, so good by the time Geno cums. He doesn't pull back, even when Geno tugs on his hair in warning, he just shifts so it's just the head of Geno's cock in his mouth; swallows down all Geno's offering. He only pulls away when Geno makes one sharp tug and flicks his gaze up to see the tears pooling in the corners of Geno's eyes. He flinches, over stimulated, when Sidney pulls back, moaning Russian syllables at Sidney.

 

"Good?" Sid asks and Geno just groans at him, making grabby-hands at him until Sid relents and shifts his way up the bed.

 

Once he's settled, legs still falling between Geno's and dick pushing at Geno's lower-stomach, Geno reaches for his boxers and pushes down. Sidney springs free from his boxers and Geno just keeps groaning nothing sounds at him, pushing down until the boxers are gone and they're skin-on-skin for the first time.

 

"Oh," Sidney moans out, falling forward until his elbows are all that keep him from landing on Geno, grinding down into Geno's abdomen.

 

"Sid, _Sid_ ," Geno whispers, tilting his chin and crashing their lips back together, pulling moans from deep in Sidney's chest. "What you want, Sid?" He whispers against Sidney's lips. "I'm give—"

 

" _Geno,_ " Sidney groans, throwing his head back. "Give, give me your hand," he pants. Geno lifts his hand to his mouth first and licks a stripe across his palm. When he grips that hand around Sidney's shaft, it's tight and warm and _moist_ and Sidney can't hold back the sounds it drags out of him. "Geno, please," he whispers and lets his head fall into the cradle of Geno's neck. He keeps thrusting forward into Geno's hand and back into the other one Geno's pressing against his ass, chasing the kneading touches.

 

"I'm give you, Sid; tell you that." Geno says, turning his lips to press against Sid's scalp.

 

"I'm so close, Geno."

 

"Shh..." He whispers back and drags his hand on Sid's foreskin, and Sidney moans a high pitched sound, grinds down one more time and cums.

 

He shakes through his orgasm, mouth wide open on a sound he's never heard himself make before. Geno's planting quick kisses all across his face and it takes all Sid's effort to not just collapse on him. He angles himself off to the side and fall face-first into the sheets, his shoulders and biceps still shaking in his afterglow. "God, Geno," he says, turning his head to look at him.

 

Geno just smiles sheepishly and runs a hand through Sid's cum across his stomach. He's coated with it and Sidney feels his dick twitch in a valiant effort to get hard again.

 

"Ugh, stop," he whines, turning his head so he's facing away from Geno. "I can't get hard again just yet." Geno laughs a little at that and Sidney listens to him shifting around. He doesn't really move from the bed, just rolls around some before sliding closer to Sidney, throwing an arm over his waist and resting his cheek on his shoulder blade.

 

Sidney feels content and happy; he hasn't felt it in so long that his mind sort of boggles at the feeling. It's overwhelming, how a place inside him that's felt open and raw for so long now feels filled up. He kind of wants to chuckle at it, he kind of wants to cry. Geno just squeezes his arm around Sid's waist and Sid feels himself let go.

 

He wipes at a tear slowly spilling from his eye and sniffs before pulling his hand away from his face. He tucks it under his chin and stares at the wall across the room. "I was really good at hockey," he starts. He can feel Geno's jaw drop open on his shoulder and it startles him into a small laugh, picturing the other man's shocked face. Geno just grumbles back at him in Russian and squeezes his middle again. It dislodges the anxiety Sidney's feeling clenching around his chest and he just suddenly knows that this is a guy he can talk to about anything.

 

"You're right," he continues. "I probably could've made it to the NHL. Could've beaten you in the draft even," he teases, shifting his shoulder a little so Geno's head wobbles. "I made a mistake though, and I didn't — I _don't_ — want you making the same one.

 

"The first person I came out to was Jack, back when we were in school together. He was probably the best friend I've ever had. Not a lot of people liked me because of how well I played but he didn't care, you know? Just chirped me like I was any other guy… protected me. And he didn't care that I was gay." He sniffs again, pushing his hands up underneath the pillow under his head. He sighs and Geno kisses at his shoulder blade, running one hand lightly up and down his back. "He just hugged me and told me he supported me, in whatever." Sidney's voices catches a little, "He made me believe I could tell anybody."

 

Geno just kisses his shoulder again, making a humming noise in the back of his throat. Sidney can't quite believe he's doing this, that he's telling Geno all this, but he's been so amazing and if the only thing Sidney can actually offer him is his friendship, his love, he thinks it's what he has to do… he's so sick of denying it to himself.

 

He tries to steel himself to be able to go on, forcing the tears out of his voice as best as he can. "The next people I told were my parents." He shrugs, "I figured if my hockey-loving-best-friend didn't care about it, my parents wouldn't either, you know?" He sniffs, feeling his nose start to run and his eyes film over with tears. "They cared."

 

"What happen, Sid?" Geno's voice is gravely when he asks, shifting his head up so his chin is all that rests on Sidney.

 

"They pulled me from hockey; I was living with a billet family and playing in the Q but they just took me straight from all that, brought me home." He blinks a few times to clear his vision and clenches his fist. "Put me in the basement instead of my bedroom."

 

He pulls one hand out from under the pillow to rub at his eyes before running his fingers back through his hair. "Canada's not that homophobic, you know? But my parents were. _Are_ ," he corrects. "Being down there, having my food thrown down the stairs at me like I was a dog or something..." he clears his throat and turns his head and Geno shifts back so they can look at each other. Geno's glowing in the mix of moonlight and the first rays of sunlight filling the room. The sun's not yet breaking the horizon but the sky is turning shades of purple and pink and it's beautiful where it reflects in Geno's eyes. Sidney swallows hard around the buildup in his throat. "They hired this guy to 'beat the gay' out of me.

 

"I didn't really respond to it. I mean, I was sixteen, you know? Not some kid who could literally be scared straight. I knew who I was and that wasn't going to change... I overheard the guy and my parents talking one night and they decided to take a different approach." Geno makes a wounded sound high in his throat. Sidney's eyes are wet again and he's desperately blinking back his tears. He whispers at Geno, one hand still clenched tight in a fist, "I was raped. More than—more than once. Each time worse than the first."

 

He lets it hang in the air over them for a few minutes, just searching Geno's eyes for any type of reaction. He looks angry and sad and his hand is gripping at Sidney's back where it was previously resting. Sidney hates that this is his story but maybe it'll help Geno understand why he couldn't give in to this — why he was so scared _for_ him.

 

"By the time I figured out a way to get out I had missed so much hockey. And my body was a mess, you know? I was a minor, too, so I couldn't sign myself back up to it or pay for it without my parents finding out. So," Sid feels a phantom touch on the back of his hand underneath the pillow, Geno gently brushing his fingertips across it. He shifts and let's his hand relax, turning it palm down so Geno's fingers fall in between his. "So it was too late for me. I just hopped a bus out of Nova Scotia, hopped another out of the country. No ID and barely any cash. No one would hire me and anyone who did didn't pay enough for me to live off of.

 

"I met this really sweet old lady when I was bussing tables at diner and she took me in. I stayed with her for about a year before she passed away. Her kids didn't like her taking care of me to begin with so they sort of threw me out after that, put her house in Brooklyn up for sale." he smiles a little ruefully, "So I was left out on my own. The streets became my home."

 

Geno's making a whimpering noise and scrambling to get closer to him. He pulls Sidney into his arms, tucking his head underneath his chin and rubbing soothingly up and down his back. Geno's cheek is resting on Sid's scalp and his whimpers have changed into shushing noises. Sidney didn't even realize he was crying.

 

"I'm have you now, Sid. I'm help any way I can—"

 

"I know, Geno, I know," he turns so he's on his side and curled up better in Geno's arms. He still really doesn't want to let him but Geno's still more stubborn than him. He lets it go and relishes in the safety of Geno's arms around him.

 

They don't talk for a while, the sun filtering high above the horizon by the time either of them moves again. Sidney had been pretty sure Geno was asleep but his breathing had never quite evened out and Sidney was too afraid to close his eyes.

 

"You have to leave soon," Sidney whispers, still tucked in Geno's space.

 

"Yes," Geno grumbles. The sound reverberates in his chest and Sidney smiles, hearing it followed up by that steady, steady heartbeat.

 

"I—before you go," Sidney mutters, curling in a little tighter. "I—"

 

"What you want, Sid?"

 

Sidney flushes, his face heating up still pressed against Geno's chest. He wants it — God, he does — but it's been so long for him and he doesn't know if Geno— "Can you make love to me?" He cuts himself off, jumping from the ledge he's been standing on for so long.

 

Geno pulls back and looks down at him. Sidney holds his gaze, not really sure what he's searching for but knowing he will find whatever it is in his eyes. Sidney wants to give the world to him.

 

Geno just nods, slowly, and there's a smile mixing with his few tear tracks. He looks happy and Sidney can feel it echo in himself, starts to smile, too. Geno shifts him onto his back, rolling on top and using his elbows to leverage some space between them. It doesn't last long, Geno tilting down and dragging his lips across Sidney's.

 

Geno tastes like the salt of Sidney's tears and it leaves his heart aching, both hands reaching up to settle on Geno's hips. "Geno," he moans into the kiss, his breathing picking up speed when Geno shifts away to lick at his neck. Sidney hasn't let him take control before but he regrets that now. Geno's sparking fire underneath his lips wherever he presses and Sidney feels lit up from the inside, cock valiantly twitching to life.

 

"Gonna make you feel good, Sid," he pushes himself up and leans across the bed to the draw in the nightstand. He pulls it open and grabs lube and a condom and Sidney realizes that no, Geno wasn't planning this but he'd been hoping. It makes his heart start to pound and his eyes brim with tears again.

 

He hopes this isn't it, hopes that Geno won't just do this and be done with him. He can't be sure but he wants to hope Geno's been real. He thinks he has; he doesn't think he could bear it if he turned out not to be.

Geno drops the items next to Sidney's hip and leans back down over him. He dips his head until their gazes lock and Sidney sees it — sees _Geno_ — and just _knows_ that every word has been true. But the summer's long and Russia's so far…

 

He keeps himself as still as possible while Geno drags kisses down his chest. His body's still on fire and his cock is aching in anticipation of him being full. Geno gives the head of his dick a few cursory licks and dips his hand to spread Sidney's legs. He's not lying between them, just kneeling there and still hovering over Sidney's chest. He can't help the groan that breaks its way out of him and he flushes when Geno's eyes snap back to his. He looks hungry for him and Sidney wants, so damn much.

 

Geno preps him slowly, one finger blending into two into three. Sidney's shifting his hips restlessly with the thrusts of Geno's hand, keeps trying to grind down so Geno hits his prostate again. It's been so long since he's wanted this and so long since he's had it with someone he wanted. He can't keep himself in check, head thrown back in pleasure and hands gripping at the sheets.

 

When Geno finally pulls his hand away, Sidney's on edge. He's moaning almost constantly, aching for Geno to be moving inside him. Geno rolls the condom on and leans forward so his arms are bracketing Sidney's shoulders. He's still, waiting, and Sidney looks up to find concern on his face.

 

"You sure, Sid?" Geno asks, holding his body completely off of Sidney's.

 

Sidney nods, shifting his hands to rest on Geno's hips again.

 

"We don't have to," Geno groans out.

 

It strikes a fear in Sidney's gut but he knows, looking up at Geno, that he's asking for Sid's benefit. Letting Sidney know that Geno's not asking for anything he doesn't want to give. "I want to though," he says a little hysterically. He pulls at Geno, trying to pull the bigger man down between his legs. He lifts his hips in the air but Geno doesn't budge.

 

"Sid," he says quietly, turning his head this way and that until he finally catches Sidney's eyes, doesn't let him avoid his. "Why?" He asks softly.

 

Sidney swallows hard, open-mouthed, around the lump in his throat, blinking back his tears. "Because I don't want you to forget me." He keeps speaking through Geno's broken " _Sid_ ". "I just, your _leaving_ , Geno," he hits Geno's bicep, "and you might not come back. It's not like Russia's close, or even Pittsburgh and I just—"

 

"Shh," Geno whispers, finally dropping to his elbows so his body is blanketing Sid's; he dips his head down so they're pressed cheek to cheek and he whispers into Sid's ear, "I'm never forget you, okay?" He says. "No matter what, I'm never forgetting—"

 

" _Geno_ ," Sid chokes out, wrapping his arms around Geno's neck and holding him tight. Geno just shushes him again before he shifts and their hips slide together. They both groan when the head of Geno's dick catches on Sid's rim and Sid squeezes his arms around his neck. Geno pulls his hips back and reaches down to line himself up with Sidney's hole. He pushes in and Sidney cries out at the stretch, every centimeter that Geno's pushing in feeling like heaven settling into his bones. He's blissed out before Geno's even half-way in, his breath hitching and hips twisting with every subtle movement until Geno's resting inside him, filling him to the brim, and wrapping him back up in both of his arms.

 

"Slow," Sid breaths out, swallowing hard after the word. "Slow, Geno, I need—"

 

"Shh," Geno just whispers again and kisses Sidney's forehead where it meets his hairline. He tilts his face down into Sid's neck after and licks at the skin there, shifting his hips, "I'm got you."

 

\---

 

Sidney wakes up hours later, alone. He's unsure of it at first, knowing he fell asleep with Geno wrapped around him and holding him so, so tight. Reassuring him that he won't ever forget him… Sidney's a little surprised to find that he believes every word.

 

He shifts where he's laying buried underneath the covers, reaching out blindly for Geno. The bed's cool under his touch though and he doesn't collide with another body. There aren't sounds coming from the bathroom or the living room area either and his heart rate starts to pickup speed. He's panting by the time he slits his eyes open and gets a good look around the room.

 

He's definitely alone, with a rose and a piece of paper lying on the pillow next to his. His eyes are flitting around the room even while he reaches out to grab the paper. Geno's suitcase is gone but Sidney's things are all still where he left them. The clothes Geno bought him over the course of the week are lying in piles on top of the dresser and Geno's hoodie is thrown in with them.

 

 _Sidney,_ the note starts and Sidney curls into a ball, his heart already aching.

 

_You look so happy when I try to say goodbye that I cannot wake you. Also probably better to not._

_My plane is 11:30 to Pittsburgh, I will be there a few days before go home to Russia. I do not check out of hotel room, it is yours to stay for as long as you want. I talk to front desk and everything is take care for, you pay nothing and are welcome there._

_I not able to stand say goodbye, Sid. The two weeks I am there are amazing and I wish we could have again. I miss you. Is crazy, yes, but I do. I'm love you._

_-Geno_

Sidney's crying by the end of it, clutching the sheets up around his chest and barely managing to not rip the paper in the other. It hurts deep in his heart that Geno just walked out, it _feels_ like he just walked away, but Sidney's eyes keep catching on those three words and he knows that everything Geno's done proves them true. And God, he loves him, too.

 

He hates that they didn't say that to each other before he fell asleep but he hopes Geno knows he wasn't alone. Sidney keeps hiccupping through his tears so he curls himself into a tighter ball, trying to fight off the overwhelming need to chase after him. Sidney feels like this is maybe proof, no matter what he feels, that he could have never had this for real.

 

He lets himself wallow in the pain the note brings and in the knowledge that Geno won't be back for a long time. The likelihood of Geno still loving him come the start of the new hockey season is slim and he knows he's missed his chance. If Geno gets over him in the offseason, he doesn't want to bring it all back up to him in October… doesn't want to find out he's alone again in feeling this way.

 

He has to pull himself together though, because he can't stay here by himself. Being with Geno at the swanky hotel was one thing, coming and going with him when they pleased; being there in a room booked under Geno's name without him… no, he can't do it.

 

Sidney drags himself over to the dresser and sorts through it for the clothing he had been wearing when Geno brought him there. The pants are so dirty and the neckline of the t-shirt is ripping and they still smell horrendous, even after Geno had them put through the hotel's laundry service. He takes the pile and heads to the bathroom.

 

He's sniffling back tears that keep lodging in his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly every few minutes. It's not allergies, he knows it. He turns on the water in the shower and turns towards the mirror, letting steam fill the bathroom. He brushes his teeth with the toothpaste Geno left and the brush he'd bought Sidney the first night he was there. He keeps his eyes down, avoiding his reflection, until he's done.

 

He catches a look at himself unintentionally. He's still so gaunt, cheekbones prominent on his face and his jaw line strong, his cheeks are still a little hollow in between but it's so much better than when he came. Geno had gotten him a haircut, too, his first in over a year, so his hair is now cropped similar to how it used to be, just long enough to curl and for his fingers to run through. He'd hidden a bit of the streets behind his beard but even that's gone now — he'll admit it hadn't been a great beard but it covered his baby-face and his hunger.

 

He looks back at the pile of clothes waiting for him to change into and back to himself in the mirror. He has dried cum all across his lower stomach and bite marks sparingly over his neck and chest. There's one on his shoulder, deeper than all the others, where Geno had muffled the sounds he made when he came, buried deep inside Sidney just after Sidney shook through his own orgasm. It had all just been sounds so early that morning, but thinking back on it after reading the note, he wonders if Geno was stopping himself from saying those three words.

 

 _God,_ Sidney thinks, fisting his hair in one hand; he can't do this. He can't—when will he ever get this chance again? He found a friend in Geno and he was so, so much more than just his rescuer; he'd found something his parents had tried to convince him wouldn't exist in this world for. He found someone he loves who loves him back… and _fuck pride_ , Sidney thinks. Humans weren't meant to go through the world alone.

 

He hops into the shower and quickly washes himself clean, using the bottle of shampoo Geno left. When he steps out, the air smells like Geno and if Sidney lets himself, it's almost like he's just outside the bathroom, waiting to chirp Sid on how long he took. He's in and out in minutes though and he foregoes the clothing he brought into the room. He dries himself hurriedly with a plush towel and wraps it around his waist to head back into the bedroom. He clambers through all the clothing Geno bought him and dresses, a plan formulating in his head.

 

It's practically June and it's not cold enough out but Sidney pulls Geno's sweater over his head anyway. He buries his nose in the neckline and breathes in Geno's smell, he lets it fill his lungs and surround his heart with something close to comfort. He packs up everything of his into a duffle Geno also purchased, his old backpack and jacket as well. He leaves the old clothes on the bathroom toilet when he hurries out of the hotel room.

 

Sid feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest as he approaches the front desk. There's a kind looking woman standing there with a smile on her face and he lets that settle his nerves. He feels jumpy, still trying to work out all he needs to do, but he pushes that away to smile back at her. Inga, her nameplate says.

 

"Hi, um, I need to check out?" He asks her.

 

"Not a problem. Room number and last name please." She says and her accent sounds so similar to Geno's, easing Sidney's nerves just a little.

 

Sidney rubs at the back of his neck, "Oh, uh, room 1117, Malkin."

 

She glances up quickly from the keyboard when he gives Geno's last name but just as hurriedly looks back down. "Well, Mr. Malkin," she starts and it sounds skeptical from the very first word, "here's a printout of your bill. Please verify the payment information." She circles the Pittsburgh address and gives him a knowing look, and just like that Sidney feels everything click into place, a blush filling his cheeks.

 

"You helped him write it…" he says in awe, staring at her a little dumbfounded. She just winks and gestures with the back of her pen at the small security camera behind her. She's being discreet, Sidney realizes, and he appreciates everything she isn't saying. "Thank you so much," he says, "everything's right."

 

She smiles brightly at him and folds the bill in half before sliding it across the counter towards him. "You're all set, then."

 

"Thank you so much, Inga," there's relief flooding every one of his pores, leaking out of his voice. "Do you have a marker or something I could—?" He asks, holding his hand over the counter as if he was holding a pen.

 

"Yes, here," she places one in his hand and he smiles in thanks.

 

Sidney moves to the chairs by the lobby doors and pulls his cardboard piece over his lap. He's thinking out what to write on it, biting his bottom lip between his teeth, when Inga calls out across the room.

 

"You know," she starts and Sidney glances up at her with full attention. "You should head down to city hall, any of the clerks there should be able to help you." She's typing away on her keyboard and not looking at Sidney when she adds, "Just tell them you want to go home."

 

\---

 

Sidney blinks up in awe at the house the cab pulls up to. The guy doesn't drive up to the front steps or any sort of pathway, parking the car on the street next to the mailbox. He turns around in his seat and Sidney can't even bother to acknowledge him, just stuffing his hand into his pants pocket and pulling out the only bills he has left. He hopes it covers the fare because he's not in the right mindset to count.

 

Moving on autopilot, Sidney pops the door handle and pushes it open, leveraging himself out of the car and pulling his duffle bag with. He's barely shut the door when the cab driver steps on the gas and Sid's startled into walking.

 

He doesn't look around much, gulping down one dry swallow and then another. Geno's house in Pittsburgh is _huge_ , Sidney thinks, no wonder he could afford to be so generous. He's clutching Geno's note inside his hoodie pocket, his eyes trained on the front door, as he finally gets down the walkway and climbs the stairs. His whole body is shaking as he looks around for the doorbell, a light shining through the window letting Sidney know he's there; that the bus rides and cabs and _days_ it took to get to Pittsburgh weren't all for naught.

 

He pushes the button and turns around so his back is to the door. He's listening for sounds but there's nothing at first and Sidney's heart is pounding so hard. He pulls his hand out of the hoodie pocket and swings the duffle bag in front of himself, holding the strap with both hands. Geno has two cars glinting with the evening light in the driveway and Sidney really, really hopes he's not intruding. He doesn't have a backup plan though; the rest of his life is riding on this.

 

Finally, he hears a muffled curse and a "One minute!" thrown towards the door and holds his breath. The cursing is followed up with heavy footsteps making their way to the door and he turns around just as it opens, a hesitant smile forming on his face.

 

"Hi," he half-whispers, voice clogging in his throat. He drops the duffle bag and throws himself at Geno, wrapping his arms around his neck and holding on so tight. "I'm home."

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Sidney is homeless and lives alone on the street. He fled from his parents house as a minor after his parents hired someone to beat him/rape him. These are only briefly mentioned and are not spoken of in detail. 
> 
> I strongly do not believe that this situation would ever occur in the actual Crosby family; they seem like wonderful people. For the sake of this _fictional_ story, they are depicted as homophobic and react to their son's coming out in an alarming way.
> 
> If there's anything else you think I should warn for in detail or in passing in the opening notes, please let me know. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr!](http://TaylorJ8771.tumblr.com)


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